After
by locktobre
Summary: Erika adjusts to life as the Queen of Dulcinea; Julian learns to be a prince, and someday king. Meanwhile, Preminger has had quite a while to plan his revenge...
1. Coronation

Today was the day. Two months after her wedding to King Dominick, Erika was to be crowned Queen of Dulcinea.

Her handmaiden, Sara, laced her corset and helped her into her voluminous dress. The fabric was the softest Erika had ever felt, but the stitching was subpar, and she frowned as she examined her right cuff.

"Milady?"

"I'll need to speak with your seamstresses once this is all over."

"Yes, milady. I'll arrange it, milady."

"You don't have to call me 'milady,' you know," Erika sighed. She'd said it many times, but perhaps this time she would get a different answer.

"But I do, milady. That's the way it's done, milady."

Perhaps not. "Certainly not after _every_ sentence," she insisted.

"Begging your pardon, milady."

Erika suppressed a sigh as Sara buttoned the final button and began fussing with her skirts instead. "Could you get me a glass of water, please?"

"Yes, milady." Sara ducked into a clumsy curtsy and then scurried out of the room. She was still very young, only fourteen, and clearly very nervous about her position. She was from the orphanage in Chesley, and flinched at sudden movements; Erika had already talked to Dominick about investigating the orphanage's practices.

Dominick appeared in the doorway, grinning. He was dressed in a similarly showy style that Erika didn't think suited him at all. "Are you alone?"

"Yes." Erika smiled, already tired, though her day was far from over.

"Aren't you looking forward to it, even just a little? Julian and Anneliese are here."

They'd arrived last night, and she had barely had time to greet them. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

Dominick hugged her delicately, careful of the lace and frills. "You look lovely."

Erika grimaced.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" He knew next to nothing about dresses, except how to get them off.

"Well... The stitch work is a bit shoddy, and the pattern seems unnecessarily complicated... But maybe that's just how things are done here." Her eyes strayed to Dominick's neckline and she tugged his collar up, firmly hiding the hickey she'd left there last night. He chuckled and kissed her hand; they both knew if their lips met, they would have trouble getting to the ceremony on time.

Sara reappeared with a pitcher and a glass, and Dominick stepped back regretfully. "I'll see you in an hour, lass."

Erika nodded and he left, nodding at Sara; she flushed scarlet and fumbled into a curtsy, rising out of it long after he'd disappeared. Her hand shook slightly as she poured a glass of water and handed it to Erika.

"Are you afraid of him?" Erika asked curiously, taking a sip. She was thirsty enough to gulp it down in one, but that was not how a queen behaved.

Sara tensed. "Not very, milady."

"He isn't anyone to be afraid of. He doesn't bite."_ Unless you ask nicely._ Erika smirked into her glass and took another sip. She froze as an unsettling thought struck her. "Was he was different before?"

"Milady?"

"Before he met me, before he went to Aurelia, was he different? Did you hear anything like that?"

"Oh, no, milady." Sara shook her head vigorously, her messy auburn curls bouncing. "But he is a very great man, isn't he, milady? You are so very lucky."

Erika smiled, relaxing. "He is."

"Come, milady, we must get downstairs."

Erika hesitated, then drained the glass in one gulp; Sara looked almost impressed. "Well, if we must."

* * *

Three floors below, in front of several hundred nobles, sat the royal family of Aurelia, the Beaumonts: Genevieve, Annelise, and Julian. The only other person in the front row was Dominick's fifteen-year-old brother Oliver; Dominick would not be joining them, as he was the one presiding over the coronation.

As Anneliese held Julian's hand in her lap, she could not be happier with how things had worked out. Aside from being kidnapped, that is.

Julian was chatting quietly with Oliver, or trying to; Oliver seemed to both want to talk and to be invisible.

"How are the vineyards this year?"

Oliver stared at his shoes. "I don't know. I haven't learned much about the vineyards yet."

"I have!" Julian said eagerly. "You grow seven, sometimes eight, different varieties in this region, in some others as many as thirteen—"

"Ah, Julian?" Anneliese said gently, noticing as Oliver squirmed in his seat. "Technically you aren't a tutor anymore." She hated to tell him off his teaching—who knew a man could know so many things!—but they were guests in Oliver's home and it wasn't fair to him.

"What? Oh, yes, of course."

Anneliese kissed his cheek, sending a small hush through those sitting behind them, and the overall babble in the hall seemed to grow louder. She nudged her husband. "Never at a loss for words, eh, Julian?" she whispered, and he grinned.

Suddenly the hall fell silent and everyone twisted in their seats to see King Dominick Von Brandt striding up the aisle looking cool and composed despite wearing full regalia. He inclined his head cordially to the first row, then took his place on the platform facing them, staring serenely at the door he'd just come through.

"Why didn't Erika just come in with him?" Anneliese whispered to Julian.

"It's a traditional part of the ceremony. Some speculate it began because dressing took longer than planned, but it continues even after that is no longer the case."

Anneliese nodded and squeezed his hand. She wondered how long they would be waiting, and if Erika had done her own gown. Probably not, as she had her own staff now, but her attention to detail was exquisite, and anything less would probably upset her. She wondered, too, if Erika would give the palace seamstresses any lessons. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, and she thought she recognized Aurelian granite—yes, there were the flecks of fool's gold.

A quiet buzz of conversation began to pick up, until the doors opened once again. The silence that fell was absolute, and Anneliese thought she knew why: this was the first time any Dulcinean outside the palace staff would see Erika, and as she took her first measured step into the room, Anneliese thought she could feel the impending gossip swell around her.

"Well, she's not very pretty," came a ringing, nasal voice. "Bit skinny, too."

Anneliese saw Erika's steps falter and a flicker of panic on her face. For a second, all eyes swiveled to Dominick, whose serene smile had hardened, but he ever so slightly inclined his head to encourage Erika forward.

Erika took slightly longer, faster steps, trying to keep her face blank as she all but hurried to the platform. No more comments rang out from the crowd, but the tension remained. Who would be so bold as to insult their queen? Erika took her place beside Dominick, an uneasy half-smile on her lips.

"People of Dulcinea and of Aurelia," Dominick began; the tension wound higher and the crowd stirred—were they not ladies and gentlemen? "We stand here to coronate the new Queen of Dulcinea, Erika of Astraea." He stepped to the glass case in the center of the platform. "These objects are symbols of power within this realm. On my command, I will pass them to her, and thus the power will also lie with her."

Dominick's words seemed to carry a sense of menace, although there was nothing in his tone or expression or indeed the words themselves to suggest such. He raised the lid of the glass case, nodding slightly to Erika, who took her cue to kneel with some difficulty, owing to her voluminous skirts. "Formerly, these objects belonged to my mother, Queen Katharine."

He extracted a fine, thin sword and held it out, hilt first. "As queen, you must be the protector of your nation. Erika of Astraea, will you take up arms to defend your land?"

"I will," Erika said clearly, despite the slight tremor in her voice, and she took the sword in her trembling right hand.

He reached into the case again, this time withdrawing a silver filigreed scepter topped with a large, purple gemstone. Anneliese glanced at Julian—had he ever seen such a stone before?—but he was frowning at it as though confused.

"As queen, you must bring wealth to your nation." He held the scepter in open palms, offering it to his wife. "Erika of Astraea, will you do everything in your power to assure the prosperity of our land?"

"I will," Erika said, more firmly, and she took it the scepter in her left hand.

Dominick reached into the case a last time, lifting out an ornate silver crown embellished with more of the strange, deep purple gems. "Erika of Astraea, will you pledge yourself to your citizens and their just rule?"

"I will," said Erika, and he placed the crown upon her head. He bent to help her up, and turned her gently to face the crowd.

"People of Dulcinea! I present to you Queen Erika Von Brandt!"

The audience rose and bowed, some dropping right to their knees and others merely bending at the waist. Julian and Oliver bowed deeply, Anneliese sinking into a dainty curtsy, but as an equal monarch Queen Genevieve simply bowed her head.

Erika smiled blindly through her mounting panic. She forgot what was supposed to come next! Where did she go? Did she stay on the platform and everyone else left? The crown was heavier than she had thought it would be, and the scepter and sword seemed in danger of slipping out of her sweaty hands. She glanced wildly to Dominick; he put a hand on the small of her back and gave her a little push, so she guessed she was supposed to exit the hall. She held her head high and tried to take slow, stately steps, staring blearily into the corridor beyond the doorway. She stepped through, and once she was clear, the heavy stone doors swung shut behind her.

Sara bobbed hesitantly to the right, a little out of breath. "This way, milady," she said, leading Erika down the corridor a ways to a sitting room.

"Milady!" Sara exclaimed, barely catching the sword and scepter as they slipped from Erika's numb hands. She set them on a table, seeming afraid to touch them. "Sit down, milady," she urged, steering Erika into a chair, and gingerly lifted the crown from her head before it could fall to the floor. She set it near the sword and scepter and hurried to the sideboard. "Here, milady, I'll get you some wine."

Erika couldn't raise her hand to accept the glass and Sara hovered anxiously, wringing her hands. "Milady? Are you ill? Should I fetch a doctor?" She jumped as Dominick entered, followed by Oliver and the Beaumonts. "Milord, something is wrong!"

Sara backed away with huge, fearful eyes as he knelt before Erika. "Erika? Lass, are you alright? Erika!"

"I'm tired," Erika managed in a nearly inaudible whisper. She did not move—she didn't think she _could_ move—but she felt as if she were swaying.

"Can you walk?"

She tried to nod, but wasn't sure if she managed it; he helped her to her feet, keeping an arm firmly around her waist. She tried to say "I'm sorry" as she passed a stricken Anneliese but her lips wouldn't move; and then Dominick was half-carrying her through the corridors and up staircases until they came to their bedchamber. He kicked the door shut behind them.

"Are you hurt?" He asked as he set her on a divan. He knelt behind her and began unbuttoning her gown. "Is your corset too tight? Erika, please say something. Anything." He unlaced her corset and she took a deep breath. "Was that it?"

She shook her head, her thoughts clearing somewhat. She began pulling the pins from her hair. "I'm just so... overwhelmed by all of this. How am I supposed to go from being a peasant to a queen? Sara's calling me _milady_ every other word, people are _bowing_ to me... I don't deserve this." She buried her face in her hands, remembering as she did so that her face was painted and powdered. _Oh well._

"What are you talking about? Of course you deserve this. You're more noble than any of them."

"No—" Erika began, lifting her head, but Dominick continued, standing up and beginning to pace: "You were an indentured servant. You worked your fingers to the bone, and you didn't have a penny to show for it."

"You're making me feel _worse_," Erika choked, tears clogging her throat. "I'm not noble. I'm a sham."

"What are you talking about?" Dominick knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands, but she pulled away.

"I can't tell you," she whispered. She had promised herself that she would take this to her grave. She couldn't tell him, especially not today, not after he'd just crowned her queen of his country!

"You can tell me anything," said Dominick, confused.

"I don't want to. Please, I'm so tired. I just want to go to bed."

"But what about the festival?"

"I need to lie down." She struggled to stand up, but the weight of her skirts was too great and she pitched backwards; Dominick caught her and helped her stand, looking more concerned than ever.

"Do you need me to help you change?" he murmured. Erika nodded rather stiffly, and he set to undoing more buttons. "I had dreams of tearing this off of you tonight, you know."

"Did you?" Erika's body surged with heat. "I'm sorry to ruin it."

"Don't say that," he said, taking her dress and draping it on the divan. He turned her around, brushing her long hair aside, and set to fully unlacing her corset. "Perhaps we should have practiced the ceremony more. Did the crowd take you by surprise?"

"Not until the part where someone screamed that I'm not pretty enough for you."

"That's not what happened." He managed to pull off her corset and tossed it on top of the gown. "She just... loudly stated that you could be prettier and fatter."

"Oh yes, because that's _so_ much better." Erika rolled her eyes. "I'll sleep in my shift, thank you," she snapped, as Dominick made a move toward a wardrobe, and she climbed onto their bed, kicking off her shoes rather more violently than necessary. "Do you wish I was prettier and fatter, Dominick? Is that it?"

"_I_ didn't say that, she did!"

"If that's what you wanted in a wife, then you should have married someone else!"

"Maybe I should have!"

Dominick stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

The sound seemed to echo, bring Erika back to reality; she realized she was breathing hard, chest heaving and tears brimming in her eyes. It was not Dominick's fault. He had not, in fact, said anything about her appearance. Erika was taking out her anger on him, from both the woman's comment, and her own secret.

She sat for a moment, considering. Should she apologize right away? Did he need time to calm down?

There was a knock at the door and she straightened up. "Dominick?" she called hopefully.

Sara peered around the edge of the door. "No, milady, sorry."

"Did you see Dominick?"

"No, milady."

Erika slumped back on her pillows. "Oh, Sara, what have I done?"

"Milady?"

"We've been married two months, I've just been crowned queen, and I've already ruined everything."

"Oh, milady, I'm sure you haven't."

"Maybe I should go after him."

"But milady, you must rest! You nearly fainted!"

"I was _not_ fainting, I am not the sort of lady who _faints_! I—I just need a moment to cope. _You_ try getting coronated and tell me how _you_ like it, with everyone staring and dissecting everything about you!"

"I'm sorry, milady," Sara whispered, staring at the floor.

"Oh, no, now I've done it to you too. I'm so sorry, Sara. I don't know what's wrong with me today." Erika buried her face in her hands. "I really am ruining everything."

"You aren't, milady!" Sara said earnestly.

Erika slid out of bed. "Will you help me to get dressed?"

"Of course, milady, but—are you sure you're not tired?"

"I'm very tired," Erika sighed, walking to her closet, "but I have an obligation to my people to appear at this festival. It's in my honor, after all."

There was a knock, and Sara answered the door as Erika began looking through her gowns.

"Princess Anneliese is here, milady."

"Let her in," Erika called. "Maybe she can help me."

"Help you with what?" Anneliese asked, joining her in the closet.

"I don't know what to wear to the festival."

"Are you feeling better?"

"No, but it's my duty."

Anneliese nodded; duty called, and royalty answered. "What about this one?" she asked, pointing. The gown was made of heavy blue velvet and lavender silk, and, incidentally, happened to be the only gown in the closet that Erika had made herself.

Erika smiled. "Perfect."


	2. Premonition

In the dungeon under the palace of the Beaumonts, John Preminger sat in a cell.

He had been there for nearly two years, during which he had overheard a great deal of the goings-on in the country from the twelve guards stationed at various points outside of his cell. He had heard, soon after his imprisonment, that the girl Erika, the imposter, had been put up in the palace; Anneliese had begun mining operations for some sort of gemstone; Erika had left, for one reason or another; and, after a long stretch, come back again to marry King Dominick in a double ceremony with Anneliese and Julian. Currently, the whole of the royal family was away for Erika's coronation, with the palace being left to Mathieu Dubois, formerly the secretary of law on the Queen's council. Preminger had once been head of that council, but no more.

He was not the same man that had been put into prison. Bereft of his powdered hair and silk breeches, one would hardly recognize him; but the real change had taken place on the inside. On his first night, and several nights after, he had paced his cell, ranting and rattling the bars. He had been ignored, of course, and gradually he had fallen into silence. He had not said a word in over a year.

"Here's your supper," said Hank, opening the door to slide a tray through. The other eleven guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but Preminger remained where he sat, on his cot several feet from the door. It was the same twice a day—they were taking no chances with him escaping. Hank shut the door with a clang; the guards visibly relaxed and resumed chatting casually with one another about what might be happening at the coronation.

Preminger stretched languidly and stood. On the tray was a boiled potato and a cup of milk, the same meal yet again; he had not expected anything different. He barely tasted it as he ate, and it crossed his mind that he still did not know why the Beaumonts had been so lenient. True, prison lacked any luxuries or entertainments, but he was alive, and it was more than he had expected, in those few rare moments he had given thought to what might happen if he were caught in his schemes. His thoughts turned now to his idiotic cohorts, Nick and Nack.

Born Nicholas and Alexander Schumacher, they has been orphaned at the age of five, and spent the next ten years in the orphanage of Slade, at which point they were kicked out to make a living as they would (primarily through thieving).

Five years later, Preminger happened across them on one of his biannual tours of the country (trying to pick his pocket at an inn), and on a whim he'd taken them back to Astraea and set them up with work in the mines, where they'd spent the next ten years discreetly skimming gold and contributing neatly to Preminger's scheme.

The plan had been born from King Alphonse's ill health and Preminger's own greed. As the king sickened and wasted away, Preminger grew more confident that he would succeed. There were no talks of betrothal with any of the noble families or indeed anyone else, which meant that once money came to a head, the highest bidder would get the crown—and, of course, the princess, but he didn't want her. Precious few knew it, the kingdom's finances had been rocky for ages, and Preminger helped that along with a few subtly disastrous economic policies that ironically only ever made the queen more dependent on him. When the king finally passed away, Preminger became the queen's most trusted advisor and was consulted on nearly every decision. Had he been in the country when the mines ran out, he would be running it today, he was sure of it. Instead, he sat in a cell. He had manipulated the Beaumonts for a decade, and they let had let him live.

It was a pity he wouldn't be returning the favor.


	3. Festivities

After an hour of lacing, coiffing, painting, and powdering, Queen Erika Von Brandt was ready to end the festival celebrating her coronation. Anneliese had departed after helping to select her gown and make sure Erika was alright; she said she had to drag Julian away from the library so they could get ready, too.

Sara wrung her hands as Erika turned this way and that, examining herself in the mirror.

"Stop worrying, Sara," Erika insisted. "You did everything perfectly. I'm just worried that this dress isn't the right style."

"You're the queen, milady, you _set_ the style."

Erika paused, considering. "Really?"

"But of course, milady."

Erika squared her shoulders. "Alright, now I've got to go apologize to Dominick."

"He may already be at the festival, milady," Sara said, trotting along behind as Erika took off down the corridor. "We took a bit longer than we should have. Where are we going, milady?" Sara had never been in this part of the palace before.

"Wait here," Erika said, stopping at a particular corner.

"But, milady—"

"Sara." Erika gave her a stern look, then went around the corner, opening the third door on the left down the corridor.

"Who's there?" Dominick shouted, coming out from behind a rack of costumes half-dressed in what Erika recognized as a constable's uniform. "I told you never to come in here!" His gaze fell on Erika. "Oh. Hello."

"I came to apologize," Erika said, trying to decide where to look: the planes of his bare chest were distracting, as was his mussed hair and the flustered flush in his cheeks, and of course his eyes were out of the question, because his gaze was too intense. "I don't know why I yelled at you. It wasn't your fault, and I know that. I guess it was just the stress of the day."

For a moment he was silent, and she was afraid he wasn't going to forgive her; but then he had crossed the room in two long strides and thrown his arms around her. He crushed her to his chest and his mouth crashed down onto hers.

She broke away, giddy, and giggled. "I'll have to get dressed all over again."

"I don't care," he said, dragging his lips down her neck. "I'm sorry too," he whispered into her skin, and she shivered.

"We're going to be late to the festival," she said regretfully.

"Do we have to go?" Dominick sighed, releasing her and running a hand through his hair.

"It is in my honor, and I'd rather not go without you..."

"Oh, if we must." His gaze lingered on her mouth. The paint on her lips had smeared; he tasted some of it on his tongue. "You look so beautiful."

Her heart fluttered, and she had to remind herself that there were several thousand people waiting for her to make an appearance. "I'll see you there, then?"

"Yes, I just need to change."

"And we're alright?" The other part of their argument would have to wait, and he wasn't pressing it, at any rate. She doubted he would forget, but she hoped.

"Definitely." He kissed her hand, and Erika walked a few paces toward the corridor.

She paused in the doorway. "Oh, and Dominick?"

"Yes?" he called from the maze of costume racks.

"I want to see the constable later," she said, and she left.

Erika found her handmaiden waiting anxiously; upon seeing her, Sara gasped. "Milady!"

"The king and I made up," she said, ignoring the hot blush in her cheeks. "Come on, we've got to fix this before we can go down to the courtyard."

Sara was silent as they went back to the royal chambers. She wiped Erika's mouth with a wet cloth and set to re-powdering the area.

"I _do_ appreciate your hard work, Sara," Erika said suddenly, grabbing Sara's wrist as she reached for the lip paint pot. "But sometimes things happen. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, milady. Of course, milady."

"I wouldn't want you to be angry at me. Or the king."

"Never, milady." Sara painted the queen's lips, then fixed one of the silk flowers that had come out of place in her hair, frowning. "There. Barring anymore incidents with the king, you're finally ready."

"Sara!" Erika gasped.

"I'm sorry, milady! I didn't mean—" She clapped a hand over her mouth, aghast at her audacity.

"Oh, you _are_ a little snarker, aren't you?" Erika grinned. "That's wonderful, I just knew you had it in you."

"Milady?"

"It's lovely to see your personality."

Sara managed a smile, relaxing a titch. "Are you ready, milady?"

"Yes. Finally." She winked and then led them down the corridor again, this time in the opposite direction, toward the front doors. "I wonder where Wolfie and Serafina have gone off to? I swear, if they have any more kittens, they'll overrun both kingdoms."

"M-Milady?" Sara said timidly.

"You don't have to be afraid to talk to me, Sara."

"H-How did your cat come to bark? I've never seen such a thing before."

"Well... I don't actually know. I didn't find him until he was already grown up. Sometimes I've wondered if he was raised by dogs. Whatever the case, I love him just how he is."

"Oh, of course, milady. He's a sweet kitty, isn't he?"

"Yes, very sweet... I hope I'm not the last one there," Erika said, quickening her pace as she descended the last staircase to the foyer.

"You won't be," Anneliese called from the bottom of the stairs, standing near the door with Julian. "We were just wondering if we were."

"Oh, thank goodness. I hope they haven't started without me," she said anxiously as they exited the palace. The evening was cool, and torches were being lit along the path as the sun sank below the distant mountains.

"Technically," Julian piped up, "it _can't_ begin without you."

"Really?"

"Of course," Anneliese said confidently. "Julian knows the rule books front to back. Are you going to sing tonight?"

Erika nodded. "A duet, with Dominick. The first song we ever sang together."

They came to the stage that had been erected yesterday, hung with heavy purple curtains and set with two thrones. Anneliese and Julian bid them goodbye, disappearing into the crowd to have some fun mingling where they were less well-known.

Erika and Sara climbed the few stairs, Erika settling into the throne on Dominick's left, and Sara standing just behind, mirroring Sebastian, Dominick's page. The crowd gave a half-hearted cheer, and Erika raised her hand to acknowledge them with just as much vigor. For their part, it seemed they were too interested in the wine and entertainment going on elsewhere to really care why they were gathered here, and that was fine with her. She tugged at her gloves nervously.

Dominick leaned over. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Erika said, forcing her face into a small, neutral smile. Dominick nodded to someone she didn't see, and suddenly there was a line queueing up at the bottom of the stairs, and the first nobleman was standing in front of her.

"Lord Tacito Segreti di Luca," he said, bowing. "I am most pleased and honored to meet you, Your Excellency."

"You flatter me, milord," Erika said, trying not to sound bored; he seemed pleased, at any rate, and stepped aside to bow to the king.

And on it went, the dark growing deeper as she met several hundred noblemen and women, and she grew more tired as each passed. Occasionally, Sara would give her bits of bread or cheese and wine. Finally, there were no more to greet, and Dominick patted her reassuringly on the hand as he stood up.

The raucous crowd fell silent at once, and the sudden silence sent prickles to the back of Erika's neck; she felt quite awake now.

"If I may have your attention. There will now be a special performance by the queen and myself." He nodded to Sebastian, who drew aside the heavy curtains to reveal a piano. Dominick helped Erika stand and then led her to it. He kissed her hand, then sat on the bench, looking at her for a cue to start.

Erika's heart was pounding. Why did she think this was a good idea? This was so much more stressful than anything she'd done on her tour! Her audience was so much bigger, for one thing, and for another, she couldn't just leave the town if they didn't like it! And the song, though it meant a lot to the both of them, was still little more than a nursery rhyme... She took a deep breath and nodded to Dominick, staring over the crowd as he began to play.

The song was short, and the crowd was silent during the whole of it. When the last notes had faded from the air, Erika dared to look at their faces; and all at once, the crowd exploded with cheers and applause.

Dominick took her hand and led her in a small bow, then guided her off the stage, followed by Sara and Sebastian. "See? They like you."

"They like my singing, at least." _And they had last time I sang here in Dulcinea,_ she thought, but she didn't say that.

"My mother used to tell me that singing is how the soul communicates. So if they like that, then they like _you_."

Erika grinned. "It's all over, then. The worst is over." She would have been skipping, if her skirts weren't so heavy. "Now I'll have a few days to be with Anneliese before she has to go back to Aurelia. Oh, Dominick, I've never been so happy."

"I'm glad." They entered the palace foyer, and he kissed her hand. "I've got to go get something, but then I'm coming to bed, lass."

"I'll be there, lad," she said, giddy, and she took Sara's hand to race up the stairs. Or, rather, she would have raced, if not impeded by her skirts. "I'm so glad I'll be back in normal dresses tomorrow, Sara. I swear, it's like this has weights sewn into the bottom. I don't remember it being this heavy in the design."

"You haven't worn it often, milady. Perhaps you forgot."

"Maybe I did," Erika conceded, throwing open the chamber doors. "I'm so exhausted."

"I'll help you undress, milady," Sara said, coming up behind her and setting to work on the hundred little buttons down the back.

Erika pulled pins and gems and fake flowers from her hair, letting them fall on her dressing table. She dipped a cloth in water and wiped the paint and powder from her face, and then Sara had her stepping out of her gown.

As Sara put it away in the closet, the king entered the room. "I can do the rest," he said, and she blushed furiously.

"Yes, milord," she said, staring at the floor as she hurried out.

"I'll see you in the morning!" Erika called, and the doors swung shut.

Dominick set his satchel down, walking to Erika and cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her, but when she moved to put her arms around his neck, he pulled away.

"What's wrong?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

_Oh. That._ "Dominick..."

"You can tell me anything, Erika. You know that."

"I'm not supposed to tell you. I'm never supposed to tell you." She tried to reach behind herself and unlace her corset, but her arms didn't want to bend that way. Dominick sighed and turned her around, undoing the laces with practiced ease.

"Are you seeing another man?" he asked quietly.

"No!" _How could he think that?_ But then, what was he supposed to think?

"Then what could possibly be so bad?" he asked, letting her corset fall to the floor.

She sank onto the divan, removing her shoes slowly. "Please, Dominick. I don't want you to be angry at me."

He slipped out of his coat and shirt and laid them on a shelf in the closet. "I don't want to be angry at you, either. I love you."

"I'm afraid you won't love me anymore."

"Have you been lying to me? Is that it? What could you possibly lie about? I already know you were a peasant." He knelt in front of her, and took her hands, looking up into her eyes. "Please."

"I love you. You know that I love you, don't you?"

"Of course."

A lump swelled in her throat. "As much as I love you, and believe me, I do... That isn't—it isn't _entirely_ the reason I married you." She let out a small sob and pulled her hands from his grasp, covering her face.

"I see."

"My tour was so hard, you have to understand! A woman, traveling alone, trying to book performances... Sometimes ticket sales wouldn't even cover what I paid to rent a hall! I wasn't going to come back, you understand. I wasn't going to be selfish and come back when I didn't deserve you, or your country. I was going to be happy when I heard you were getting married. But it never came, and I started to think you were waiting for me, and I was so tired of working so hard to get by... I came back, and now we're here, and you _hate_ me."

"I don't." His arms went around her and he hugged her close. "Don't you see? I _was_ waiting for you. I was looking for a wife for months before Genevieve contacted me, and it was a _relief_, because then I could marry for money, and not worry about whether I liked her or not. I would be helping a country and giving my people what they wanted in one. But it didn't work out that way, did it? I fell in love, and I decided that I would wait. I guessed you were having troubles—I didn't wish them on you, of course, but I figured it might end up to be harder than you thought, and I hoped you would come to me for help. And you did."

"So... So you're not angry?" she sniffed.

"Well... maybe a little disappointed that my love wasn't strong enough on its own, but I know this isn't a fairy tale and that's not how it works. I love you, for better and for worse."

She laughed softly, finally meeting his gaze. "And I love you."

He stood up and stretched, crossing the room to pick up his satchel. "Now... do you still want to see the constable?"

"Oh, yes, please."

* * *

Several corridors away, Anneliese fell back on her pillows, nearly melting into the mattress in aftermath of her ecstasy. Julian hovered above her, gently kissing his way up her shoulder.

"That tickles," she giggled; his hair was hanging around his face, released from its usual ponytail. He smiled and rolled over, reaching toward the water pitcher on the nightstand, and took a long drink from his glass.

"Oh, Julian," Anneliese sighed, tracing patterns on his back as he lay on his stomach. "Do you think anyone noticed we left the festival?"

"I hope not."

"And if they did?"

"I hope they didn't realize where we were going, or why."

Anneliese stretched languidly. "I think Dominick and Erika would understand."

"Undoubtedly."

There was a movement outside the window; Serafina leapt lightly down from the sill, and then onto the bed, purring.

"Soon we may have more cats than citizens," Julian observed, and Anneliese laughed.

"Are you worried about becoming king someday?" she asked after a moment.

"Not really... It won't be for a long time. I don't even have to think about it for some years yet. Unless the queen is ill and you haven't told me?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Just... watching Erika today, I started to worry about you."

"I have several years, at least, to prepare. I'll be fine." He kissed her on the nose. "Now get some sleep. You wouldn't want to oversleep on one of the few days you get to spend with Erika."

She nodded to herself, then turned over, getting comfortable.

"Good night, Julian."

"Good night, Anneliese."


	4. Fondness

_3 Months Ago_

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer. I may be overstepping a boundary."

Anneliese marked her place in her book and set it aside. "What's on your mind?"

Erika shifted her weight, thinking it may be better not to ask. But she was curious. "You and Julian don't seem very... affectionate."

Anneliese laughed, sounding tired and perhaps a bit sad. "That's not really a question."

"Sorry," Erika said quickly. She twisted her engagement ring on her finger, a nervous habit she'd picked up on her tour. She'd been wearing it on her left hand since formally accepting Dominick's proposal, and it still felt strange.

"You're right, though." Anneliese sighed, putting her head in her hands. "He's very... careful with me. He wants to do everything by the book."

"Don't ever stray from protocol?" Erika asked, remembering back a year and a half ago when he'd tried to teach her how to be a princess.

"Yes, exactly. I don't mind, really. That's the man I fell in love with, after all. I just hope he eases up a bit after the wedding."

"I don't mean to make you feel bad! I'm just wondering if me and Dominick are the odd ones for being more... physical."

"I don't think there's a real right answer for this. My parents were never very affectionate, but I know they loved each other dearly."

"I'm sorry—" Erika began, horrified. How had they gotten here?

"No, no, don't be. It was... four years ago, now, I think? It doesn't hurt as much anymore," she said, but her eyes remained fixed on her desk, staring at nothing.

"I'm sorry," Erika said again. "I—I didn't know him personally, of course, but I remember how things used to be. You used to order a lot more dresses, for one."

Anneliese smiled. "Yes, things were a bit easier then. I've been looking over some of Preminger's policies, and I'm sure he intentionally drove us into the ground, even without stealing from the mines."

"Has he said anything?"

"Not a word in months."

"He's probably planning something." Erika began twisting her ring again.

"What can he do? He's under armed guard around the clock."

Erika paused, looking for the words that would be mostly inoffensive. "This might sound... harsh, but I don't understand why you didn't hang him."

"My mother insisted we didn't. She said it was about the politics, but I think she's still fond of him, after all this. Maybe she's hoping he'll redeem himself in prison."

"That won't happen."

"I know it won't." She sighed, then laughed. "Just a minute ago we were comparing relationships, and now this."

"It's funny how that can happen, isn't it?" Erika said, but she didn't find the conversation funny at all. She tried to steer them back to something less painful. "Have you kissed him? Julian, I mean."

Anneliese blushed. "He's kissed my hand..."

Erika stifled a giggle. "That's it? Dominick almost kissed me our first day together. He _did_ think I was you, but still..."

"Apparently there are specific rules of courtship down in some old etiquette book, and he's rather determined to go through every one."

"I wondered why you didn't get married while I was away. I kept expecting to hear an announcement."

"I think he's just nervous, because this is against custom. He's trying to make up for it."

"Probably. Dominick doesn't seem to have that problem... I wonder why."

"I think he cares more about love than anything else. I think you'll be very happy together."

"You really think so?"

"I do

* * *

_Now_

Anneliese was born royalty. She knew she had been pampered and coddled since birth; she just hadn't given it much thought until befriending Erika and watching her try to adjust to life as royal.

Erika talked to and about her handmaiden often, something Anneliese found very strange. She'd never been especially unkind to any of her servants, but she'd never really given them much thought, either. She wondered if she should, and made a few half-hearted attempts to talk to Lisette, her temporary handmaiden for her visit to Dulcinea, but Lisette gave clipped, monosyllabic responses and she gave up. Perhaps she would try again with Charlotte, her regular chambermaid back home.

Anneliese had four days to spend with Erika until she had to return to Aurelia, and they wanted to make the most of them. However, when they'd sat down to breakfast alone together—Dominick had to draw up a few economic plans and Julian went straight to the library—they found they had little to talk about. After several halting attempts at conversation, during which they both lost their appetites, Erika suggested a tour of the palace.

"We're friends, aren't we?" Anneliese asked as they entered the north wing.

"Of course," Erika said, but she didn't meet her eye.

"I thought we'd have so much more to talk about," Anneliese admitted, paying particular attention to the crown molding for no reason at all.

"Well, we didn't spend much time together to begin with, and then I was away so long... It's bound to be awkward, at first," Erika said diplomatically. "Don't worry."

"Who's that?" Anneliese pointed to a huge painting that spanned nearly floor to ceiling. Its subject was a regal man gazing down at them with a sort of serene wisdom astride a stately gray horse.

"King Christoph, Dominick's father. He didn't have that commissioned, you know; an artist just painted it for him and sent it along as a gift. Dominick said it took ten men to bring it inside. The people loved him." Erika felt a bit sad looking at this painting; she'd never known Christoph, but the way Dominick spoke of him drew pangs in her heart.

"I never knew him, but I think my father did."

"Dominick said something like that. I didn't ask for too many details... It's painful for him."

"I understand." Anneliese gave a heavy sigh, trying not to think of her own dead father. "Where's Oliver? I thought we might see him."

"In a lesson, I think, or else in the library. I don't see him very often... I wonder if he's simply very busy, or actively avoiding me."

"Why would he do that?"

"Maybe he doesn't want a peasant queen."

"That's too bad, because he has one."

Erika smiled gratefully, and then her expression soured. "I don't suppose there's a chance you didn't hear the woman yesterday?"

"I did, unfortunately. It was appalling."

Erika paused at the window, trying to see her reflection. "I'm not too skinny, right?"

"No," Anneliese said firmly, pulling her away from the window.

"And I guess if I'm not pretty, then you're not, either... Sorry about that." She tried to smile, like it was all a joke.

"Don't let her inside your head, Erika. You're beautiful. I'm beautiful. Julian tells me so every day, and I bet Dominick does, too."

Erika nodded slowly. "That's what Dominick said. Not that I'm beautiful—well, I mean, he's said that before, of course, but—he said not to let her get to me."

"Exactly. I'm sorry, but if you're holding out for a one hundred percent popularity rating, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"Really?" Erika asked desperately.

Anneliese nodded. "It fluctuates all the time. They thought I was crazy when I wanted to open the mines again, but once the geodes started selling, everyone flipped their opinion, and suddenly I was a genius. People can be... fickle."

"So it's not just me being... a former peasant?"

"That _might_ be part of it, but I doubt it's the only part. People will find any reason to dislike you. You just can't take it personally. I mean, I'm sure you heard rumors about me, back in Astraea."

"I did hear a few," Erika admitted.

"And they're ridiculous, aren't they, now that you know me?" Erika nodded. "See? That's that. You can't believe what people will say about you."

Erika nodded, simply to end the conversation. She still wasn't quite convinced, but she did feel a bit better, and she smiled gratefully. She cleared her throat and gestured that they should keep walking. "Have you seen our library? I know Julian's been there, of course."

"I have! It's wonderful. How did you build up your collection?"

"Dominick's grandfather did most of it, and his father contributed a little."

"I never knew King Rodrigo was a scholar."

"He tried to be, I think. There's never much time for a king to do anything."

Anneliese nodded sympathetically. "We're in a bit of a hectic time, but it won't always be like that."

"Hopefully," Erika sighed. "Would you like to see him? King Rodrigo, I mean. Well, not _him_, he's been dead for years—not to sound callous! I just meant—in one of the ballrooms there are portraits of a lot of the royal family."

"That would be lovely," Anneliese said, looping her arm through Erika's. "Relax! I know what you meant."

"I just don't know how you always say the right thing. I'm so afraid I'm going to offend somebody and cause a political incident—"

"I'll bet an etiquette tutor told you that."

"Yeah. _Bertram_. I don't think he likes me very much."

"It sounds like Bertram should be a little less hard on you."

"Dominick says so too. He talked to him once, but that didn't help anything, so I've given up on that. I'll just have to bear it."

"Now _that's_ thinking like a royal," Anneliese said approvingly. "Some people are always going to be unpleasant, and if you can't get away from them—at court, that's usually the case—you have to act like they don't bother you."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"What do you mean?"

"I meet my ladies-in-waiting next week. I'm sure they'll be perfectly lovely to my _face_, but I'd bet at least one of them will try to poison me in my sleep."

Sara gasped, "No!" Then quickly added, "Sorry, miladies, I beg your pardon." She stared at the floor, red in the face.

"I didn't mean it," Erika said quickly. She was lying through her teeth, but she didn't want Sara to be upset.

"Dominick would never let that happen," Anneliese said, staring at Sara like she'd never seen her before. "I'm sure he has someone very competent selecting these ladies."

"Yes, Sir Victor. He's very kind, Sara, remember? We met with him before."

"I—I'll guard you all night if I have to, milady. Nobody is going to hurt you," Sara said fiercely.

"I'm going to be fine, Sara, I promise." Erika pulled Sara into a hug, something she hadn't done before. She let go rather quickly, seeing the look on Anneliese's face—not disapproving, exactly, but definitely puzzled. "Now, Sara, I'd like you to go and see the seamstresses, like I asked you yesterday, remember? Anneliese and I are going to the ballroom."

"Y-yes, milady," she said, sounding shaken by her hug. She nearly ran down the corridor.

"What now?" Erika sighed, directing herself and Anneliese down the opposite way, toward the ballroom.

"I've been waited on hand and foot my whole life, and I've never talked to a servant like you do to Sara," Anneliese said, frowning. She was beginning to feel very guilty.

"She's the only friend I have here."

"But—"

"I know Dominick is here too, but he's very busy. There's Oliver, but he's not a real big talker, and he has all sorts of lessons, anyway. Besides, if I'm going to have someone follow me around everywhere, I might as well make conversation. I know it's strange."

"I've just never given much thought to my servants before." Anneliese blushed and looked straight ahead. "Before we met, I'd never even thought that someone _made_ my favorite dress."

"You've _always_ had servants. They're part of your life. They weren't a part of mine. I'm still amazed that I can have someone bring me food whenever I want it, or that I can tell someone my room is cold and they'll light a fire. I don't have to do anything for myself anymore. But then I have so many other things to do, so much to learn."

"It won't always be like that."

"I know. But we weren't talking about me, we were talking about you."

"I just don't know if I should _try_ to talk to them, or—"

"Just be kind to them. I mean, I'm sure you are already. Don't try to emulate me or anything, that's stupid. I'm the one doing it wrong."

"There's not really a wrong when you're queen, I don't think."

"That's what Sara says. Here." Erika pushed open the door to the ballroom. "Let's forget about that for a bit, and I'll introduce you to the family."

* * *

Several corridors away, Sara was trying not to run. There was no need to hurry, she reasoned. Queen Erika was deep within the palace, with armed guards patrolling at intervals. She was very safe—and what could Sara do that they couldn't? She was only fourteen. She had to relax.

But it was so difficult!

She shook her head. No, she was being silly. There was nothing to worry about. All the same, the sooner she was done with this errand—

Sara ran smack into somebody. Their hand shot out and caught her before she fell back on the floor; she looked up to thank them and apologize, but her breath caught in her throat.

"T-t-terribly s-sorry, milord!" she gasped, stepping back. Her chest felt bruised, but that hardly mattered when she'd just knocked into Prince Oliver!

"It's alright, er... Sara, is it? I think that's what Erika said."

"Yes, milord." She stared at the floor, and noticed that she seemed to have scuffed the prince's shoes. She desperately wanted a hole to open in the floor and swallow her up.

"Sorry for running into you, I wasn't paying attention."

"It was my fault, milord."

"Is that so?" He looked at her quizzically—not that she knew that, as she still stared determinedly at the floor. He sighed. "If you insist. In any case, I'm sorry if I hurt you. My brother says I'm built like a brick." He waited, but she didn't say anything. "Where are you going?"

"To see the seamstresses," she whispered.

"Oh, you're on an errand."

"What else would I be on, milord?" she asked, daring to look up. He smiled.

"I dunno. I thought Erika might have had you taking some time for yourself while she's with Anneliese. It's a pity you're busy."

"Milord?"

Oliver raised a hand to rumple his hair. "We could do something."

"What do you mean, milord?" Her heart was beating very fast.

"We can go exploring. I've lived here my whole life and there are rooms I haven't been in. Come on, it'll be fun."

"Milord, the seamstresses—"

"They'll still be there. I'm sure Erika won't miss you, she's busy with Anneliese." He took her hand. "Come on."

"If—If you insist, milord."

He grinned and pulled her along down the corridor.

* * *

"And that's Hroderich and Olivia, with little Ludwig and Rodrigo. Then Rodrigo and Marie, with Alvise, Dominique, and Christoph. And of course, Christoph and Katharine, with Oliver and Dominick. This is sort of the wall of families." Erika looked at these portraits with a heavy heart. So many of these people were dead... Would Dominick continue the tradition of dying young?

"These are very small families," Anneliese observed. "I thought mine was unusual."

"I hadn't thought about that." Erika frowned. "You're an only child, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. My mother had a few miscarriages and stillbirths, though."

"I'm sorry."

"That was a long time ago," Anneliese said heavily. "Look, there's one of Dominick."

"He looks so handsome, doesn't he?"

"Indeed... Are you going to be in here someday?"

"I'm supposed to sit for a portrait next month. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Why?"

"Sitting still for hours, for weeks on end? That does not sound like my idea of fun."

"It's not so bad, I promise. Ask someone to read to you."

"All I've been reading lately is history and law texts."

"I can recommend a few novels, if you'd like."

"That would be lovely."

* * *

Oliver pulled Sara closer, putting his arm around her waist as they walked. She smelled wine on his breath and began thinking this was not a good idea.

She began to edge away. "Milord, I really should be getting back to my mistress—"

"Let's go see the war room. Nobody's been in there for ages."

"I don't know that you're thinking clearly, milord."

He let his hand fall from her waist. "I just wanted to relax a little with someone my own age." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I appreciate the thought, milord! But we mustn't."

"And why mustn't we?"

"I've got to get back to—"

"Erika doesn't even know you're gone!" he said impatiently. "She's with Anneliese!"

"You've been drinking, milord," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Only a bit. Otherwise I can never talk to anyone, I get too scared."

"Scared, milord?"

"I don't know why. I'm a prince, I'm supposed to be able to command a room! Or something like that, I never remember what." He massaged his forehead. "I don't know why I can't." He took a small bottle from inside his vest. "You won't tell, will you, Sara?"

"No, milord," she said solemnly as he took a drink and put it away again.

"Good." He grinned. "Come on, let's just go see the war room. Then you can get right back to your mistress. Please?"

She hesitated as he held his hand out, then took it. "Yes, milord."

"Call me Oliver," he said, pulling her close again. "Please?"

Sara's stomach was fluttering. Prince Oliver was so handsome, and being so kind to her. She could hardly believe her luck.

"It's just up here." Oliver pushed open the door and guided her in.

"Shall I light a candle?" She fumbled with her pockets for her tinderbox.

"Nope," he said, shutting the door, and the room was thrown into complete darkness.

"Milord? Oh!" Sara gasped, feeling lips near her ear, and then on her neck, and hands _everywhere_. "W-What—?"

"Shhh," he murmured, placing his mouth firmly over hers. He maneuvered her backward, so that she sat on the table.

Sara tried to speak, to tell him that he shouldn't, but she was feeling things she'd never felt before, and there were strange, indecent noises coming out of her mouth instead of words as he hiked up her skirt, and she didn't know what was happening—

The door flew open and the room flooded with light. And then, a very angry "_Oliver!_"

"Dammit," Oliver muttered, backing away.

Sara yanked her skirt down, horrified. "I'm so sorry, milord—"

Dominick held up a hand to her and she fell silent. He glared at Oliver. "Wait in the corridor. I'll deal with _you_ in a minute."

Oliver trudged out, straightening his clothes, and Dominick turned to Sara. She quaked with fear, expecting fierce anger at the very least, but his eyes were almost pitying.

"Are you alright?" he asked, offering his hand to help her down, which she fearfully accepted.

"I-I'm fine, milord." She tried to hold back tears.

"Where's Erika?"

"In the ballroom with the portraits, milord. She sent me to the seamstresses, but I met Oliver—the young lord, I mean—and I was waylaid." Her voice cracked. "Please, don't tell my lady. I beg of you, my king. Don't tell her why you're sending me back—"

"Sending you back where?"

"T-To the orphanage, milord."

"I'm not sending you anywhere," Dominick sighed. "Please, continue your errand and return to Erika. I'm sure she must be missing you."

Sara nodded and ran out of the room, nearly crashing into Oliver again. She did not stop to apologize or even look at him at all.

"Come with me," Dominick said, shutting the door to the war room. He put his hand on Oliver's shoulder and gripped it painfully tight when he tried to shake him off. He steered them toward a nearby sitting room and when he'd closed the door, shoved him toward the fireplace. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Oliver said calmly, staring into the grate. "I was only having a little fun."

"You think assaulting a young girl is _fun_?"

"I wasn't assaulting her!"

"She's too young! And so are you!" Dominick pinched the bridge of his nose and began pacing. "There are any of a thousand noble girls here right now, and you foist your affections on Sara?"

"I'm not foisting anything on her, she was enjoying herself!"

"You don't like Sara! You don't care about her! You're using her because she's here and it's convenient for you!"

"You don't know that! Maybe I love her!"

"You've never even _spoken_ to her before! This just proves how much of a child you are!" Dominick grabbed Oliver's shoulder and steered him out again, marching him to his room. His page, Sebastian, silently joined them on the way.

Dominick pushed Oliver into his bedroom. "You are confined to your room until further notice. You will have your meals brought to you. You will not have books brought from the library. You will have no companions except your tutors. Sebastian, notify the guard. Nobody in or out but teachers, and have two men at this door, and two outside watching his windows." He shut the door and nodded for Sebastian to set off.

"You're overreacting!" Oliver shouted through the door.

"Maybe so." Dominick shrugged. "But I'm the king."

"Yeah, thanks for lording _that_ over me again."

Dominick didn't see the point in saying how obvious it was that Oliver was not fit for kingship. "And since our parents are dead, that leaves it to me to punish you."

"I didn't do anything _wrong_."

"You can come out of your room when you admit that you did."

"I hate you!" Oliver screamed, kicking the door.

Dominick said nothing as Sebastian came back with two guards. He left them there and took Sebastian with him.

"Do you think I'm overreacting?" he asked, striding quickly down the corridor toward no place in particular.

"Perhaps, but I don't doubt that it will do him good."

"Let's hope so."


	5. Flowers

Erika went to bed and woke up alone. She wasn't sure if Dominick had been and gone, or never come to bed at all.

Sara was unusually quiet as she helped Erika dress, as she had been ever since coming back from the seamstresses. Erika had tried, repeatedly and unsuccessfully, to learn what was wrong, but Sara wasn't giving anything up. All in all, Erika had hardly had a worse morning, save for the one after her night in the dungeon.

As Erika was stepping into her shoes, the door opened, and Dominick walked in, looking exhausted, his clothes very rumpled. Sara gave a frightened squeak.

"Uh—Sara, why don't you go check on breakfast?" Erika suggested, and Sara nearly sprinted from the room. She stared after her. "I don't know what's gotten into her."

Dominick gave a very tired smile, sinking onto the divan and putting his head in his hands.

"What's happened? Where were you last night?" Erika sat beside him.

"I slept in my study."

"On purpose? Why? Are you upset about—?"

"You didn't do anything." He sighed heavily, lifting his head.

"You're scaring me."

"I don't want you to be upset."

"You're making me very nervous, Dominick. Did something happen? Did Preminger escape?" Her heart was beating in stuttering bursts, so fast it hurt.

"No." He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead. "Do you worry about that?"

Of course she worried about that. "Right now I'm worried about _you_."

He let go of her face and his hands fell limply in his lap. "It's... It's Oliver."

"Is he hurt?"

"No, no, he's fine. I just... I caught him yesterday, with... with Sara."

There was a moment of dead silence.

"What do you mean, 'with Sara'?" If he was saying what she thought he was...

"He was... kissing her."

"HE WAS _WHAT_?!" Erika stood up so fast she nearly knocked the divan over.

Dominick stood up too as Erika began to pace, her hands opening and closing on the air as though she longed to throw things—or strangle someone. "Erika..."

"How dare he! How dare he touch her!"

"Erika—"

"No wonder Sara's been so quiet! And I sent her out again, when he could be roaming the halls! I've got to call her back—"

"Erika!" He grabbed her by the shoulders. "I've confined him to his room."

"This is _your_ fault, you know!"

He let go of her in surprise. "What do you mean, my fault?"

"You went and married a peasant, and gave him ideas, and now he thinks he can take advantage of _my_ handmaiden, my _friend_—!"

"How can you blame this on me? I _stopped_ them! Otherwise they would have done something far worse—"

Erika held her hands up in surrender, taking very deep breaths. "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. I just don't like the thought of him... _groping_ her." She shuddered. "I mean, how is a girl supposed to say 'no' to royalty?"

Dominick smiled. "You did. You may be the first woman to ever turn down a king."

Erika blushed and rolled her eyes. "That makes it sound so impressive."

"It _was_ impressive." He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "Forgive me, but by then I was far too used to girls swooning in my presence. You brought me down a notch." He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.

Erika wanted to say that Anneliese was waiting at breakfast, and Sara would be back at any moment, but Dominick's lips moved to her neck and she wrapped herself around him, forgetting everything else but his skin on hers.

In the corridor, Sara stopped outside the chambers to press her ear to the door; she didn't want to catch the king and queen in a compromising position. Again. She'd done it three times before learning to stop and listen before going in. Luckily, they hadn't noticed her any of the three times, as they were very much involved in something else.

From inside their chambers, Sara heard very busy noises, and sighed, deciding she should tell Princess Anneliese that the queen would be late. She wasn't sure how to say _why_, but it would be rude to keep the princess waiting—they could take a very long time with these things. As she walked along the corridor, she remembered yesterday, when she'd made similar sounds, and her cheeks felt aflame with heat. She wondered if Dominick had told the queen, and how she had reacted. Well, she supposed she would learn soon enough.

Sara entered the dining hall feeling very small. She was not sure it was her place to talk to the princess, but it would be so rude to leave her wondering. Anneliese sat with her back to the door, playing with a napkin. Sara cleared her throat very quietly, and Anneliese looked around.

"Oh, hello, Sara. Where's Erika?"

"The queen is... indisposed, milady. She was waylaid by the king."

For some reason, Anneliese laughed. "Thank you, Sara. I was wondering what was keeping her. Please, sit down."

"Oh, I couldn't, milady."

"I won't bite," Anneliese said lightly, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Please."

Sara sat down cautiously. Anneliese's smile faltered as silence stretched between them, and she began playing with the napkin again.

"Uh... Princess? How... How are you enjoying your visit to D-Dulcinea?"

Anneliese's face lit up. "Oh, it's wonderful! This is the first time I've been out of the country, did you know? I've hardly left the palace in Astraea... But that's mostly because I've been so busy, working trade agreements and bringing in jewelers, people who know how to work with crystals, for the geodes, you know? Creating a new industry isn't all fun and games."

"I should think not, princess."

"Please, call me Anneliese."

"Yes, princess," Sara said, and Anneliese laughed. Sara had a question she would like to ask, but it would surely be inappropriate... But would the princess mind?

"Something on your mind?" Anneliese asked, noticing her expression.

"It's not my place, pr—Anneliese."

"Try me."

Sara swallowed, staring at the tablecloth. She felt bolder and braver every day. "I was wondering... if there was much resistance in your country when you wanted to marry Julian? I know many people here did not want Erika to be queen."

Anneliese frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know. Rumors and gossip don't really reach me in the palace, you know? There was probably some, but that wouldn't have stopped me from marrying him, even if I heard it. Besides, he's not king yet. They'll have plenty of time to get to know him before he's anywhere near the throne."

"Of course," Sarah said hastily. "Long live the queen." She wanted to ask about the events in Aurelia—she had heard many rumors, but never the story from her queen or anyone else—but she did not want to be impertinent.

Anneliese laughed again, and Sara looked up, finally getting a proper look at the princess; she gasped in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Anneliese twisted around, looking behind her.

"You... You look just like Erika! Or... She looks just like you! But your hair..."

"Well, of course." Anneliese frowned. "Don't—?" she began, but she was cut off by the door flying open and Erika rushing in, patting her hair and adjusting her bodice.

"So sorry I'm late!" she said breathlessly as Sara sprang to her feet and pulled out her chair.

Anneliese grinned. "It's alright, Sara here told me all about it."

Erika sat down. "Did she?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I—I said you'd been waylaid—"

Anneliese and Erika looked at each other and burst into giggles, and Sara tried to figure out just what was so funny. After a moment, their laughter faded, and Erika reached for the teapot.

"I take it Dominick isn't coming to breakfast?" Anneliese took a bite of her toast, which was now cold but still delicious.

"No, he's still working on those economic plans. Some people were very upset about our marriage, you know? It's caused a whole mess of problems, but he says he doesn't mind. I do hope he's done today, though, so we can all do something fun before you leave. Is Julian in the library again?" Erika motioned for Sara to sit down and serve herself, which she did reluctantly.

"Yes, I think he's researching something, but he won't really talk about it. He's being very mysterious."

"That seems unlike him."

"Doesn't it? Maybe it's a surprise for me. He talked about wanting to cultivate a new variety of rose for me once, maybe he's looking into it." She would not be at all surprised if he tried to follow through on such an outlandish statement.

"If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Anneliese smiled, but she was beginning to worry. It was certainly a very sweet gesture, but she didn't want him to go through all that trouble for her! Maybe they could stop by the library, and she could have a word with him... But if that wasn't it, then what could he possibly be up to?

* * *

Julian sat in the library, surrounded by several open books and pages of notes written in his own special shorthand. He was currently poring over a large, illustrated mineralogy tome he'd pulled from the deepest part of the library, frowning in concentration as he examined its pages. He sighed and put the tome aside, leaning back and scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He picked up a small volume on Dulcinean history, hoping it would prove more useful. He was painfully aware of every sound, and the back of his neck was prickling, as though he was being watched. He wasn't sure why he felt so guilty—he wasn't doing anything wrong _per se_, but he was still very afraid of being caught.

The words in the book slipped through his brain like water through cupped hands, and he set it down again. He couldn't concentrate. Perhaps he wasn't meant to know this. Perhaps there was no mystery at all.

Julian put his head in his hands, exhaling forcefully. Maybe he should just _ask_ Dominick about the gems. He would know, wouldn't he? And they were friends, weren't they? At least, their wives were friends... But had they actually sat down and talked to each other before? They'd been in the same conversation, yes, but Julian could not remember ever speaking directly to Dominick before. How very strange.

He stood up, gathering the twenty or so books from the table and replacing them carefully on the shelves. He had always had a great respect for books—in fact, it was because of a book that he was married. Had he ever told Anneliese the story? Maybe not... Thinking about her father was still so painful for her.

He didn't feel the same way about his own parents, but he hadn't been very close to them. They didn't have much time to spend with him, for one thing, and they didn't know what to do with a son who didn't want to work—_What's the use in learning all that?_ they used to say. _What good does it do to know the names of two hundred flowers when we can't afford bread?_

It had done him good when King Alphonse had picked him to tutor the princess! Julian frowned and shook his head. They didn't know anything, and now they were dead. And he was a prince, living in a palace, with all the bread he could possibly eat.

_Knowledge is power,_ Julian told himself firmly, leaving the library.

He would take a break from trying to unravel the gem mystery today. He would go into the gardens and try to name all the flowers, and for lunch he would have bread.

* * *

_12 Years Ago_

"What's that you're reading?"

Julian looked up, squinting against the sun. "It's about flowers, sir."

The man sat beside him on the stoop. "May I see it?"

"Be careful, I've got flowers pressed in the pages." He handed the book over, studying the man. He didn't look like someone from the village—his face and clothes were too clean and unwrinkled. But he was dressed very plainly, not in the style of the nobles that sometimes came through on their way to the palace.

"Did you collect all of these flowers yourself?" the man asked, turning the pages with the utmost care.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you get this book?"

"From Josué, sir. He was a scholar. You can ask him if you want," Julian added, suddenly feeling very anxious. If the man thought the book was stolen, he would take it away.

The man paused on the page for _Rosa centifolia_.

"Where are your parents?" he asked suddenly, shutting the book. He handed it back, staring at Julian like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Working, sir."

"Where do you live?"

Julian hesitated, then pointed upstairs. "Why, sir?"

The man shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off. "Goodbye, Julian. I'll see you later."

"Later? Sir, wait! Sir!" Julian scrambled to get up as the man quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Julian stood for a moment on the stoop, very confused. Had that actually happened? Had the heat of the day gotten to him? He went to the well for a drink, trying to clear mind. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure he'd imagined the whole thing.

That night, a palace guard arrived with a letter, and Julian began to cry, hugging his book as his father read it. The man had reported him!

His father read the letter and passed it to his mother, staring at Julian open-mouthed. His mother fell into a chair, clutching her heart, and stared at him too.

Julian sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't steal it!" he shouted to the guard.

"No, that's not..." His father ran a hand through his beard. "This is a letter from the king. He wants you to go to the palace."

The king?_ The king?_

"He wants you to tutor the princess. He's waiting downstairs in a carriage."

Julian didn't move.

"Get up, boy! Go down there!" his father shouted, and he sprang up, still hugging his book.

Julian walked past them without a word, followed by the guard. A royal carriage sat waiting in the street, and the guard ushered him inside, shutting the door with a sharp snap.

Across from him sat the man, this time with a crown and better

"Hello, Julian. I'm King Alphonse."

"Hello, sir," Julian croaked.

"I'd like for you to teach my daughter about flowers. Would you like to do that?"

"I'm sure many people know more than me, sir."

"Maybe so. But I'd like my daughter to have a friend, as well as a tutor. She doesn't have any brothers or sisters, you know."

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like to be her friend?"

"I... I don't know sir. I've never met her."

The king laughed.

"I could teach her about flowers. But... what will happen when I've taught her all I know?"

"You can learn other things to teach her. There are always things to learn." The king smiled kindly.

"I accept, sir," Julian said. He was eight years old, but he knew this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Splendid!" said the king. "Now, if you'd like to say goodbye to your parents—"

"No, sir."

The king raised an eyebrow and called out the window, "To the palace!"

The carriage jerked forward, and they were off.

"You can live in the palace, if you'd like."

"I'd like that, sir."

"We can take care of your family, of course—"

"That won't be necessary, sir."

The king's eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

"Without me around, they should be fine, sir," Julian said, staring at nothing.

This was a lie, and the king knew it, but he did not question it. "Well, in any case, Anneliese is waiting up to meet you."

"I'm not really dressed for—"

"Don't worry about that!" The king laughed again. "I'm quite sure she won't care at all."

For the rest of the trip, the king talked about accommodating him in the palace, but he barely listened. Finally, they arrived; standing on the front steps Julian saw a blonde woman—the queen, he assumed from her crown—and a small blonde girl in a pink dress bouncing up and down excitedly as she held her mother's hand.

"Where is he, mama? I can't see him!"

"Calm down, Anneliese," the queen said, laughing.

A guard opened the carriage door and the king stepped out. Julian hesitated, suddenly afraid. What if she didn't like him? He would have to go back to the village. Back to his parents.

"Come along, Julian," the king insisted, and he climbed out, holding his breath.

The princess squealed and nearly tackled him with a hug, knocking his breath out. "Hello, Julian!"

"Hello, princess," he gasped as she jumped away to hug her father.

"He's perfect, papa, thank you!" Anneliese said happily, turning to Julian again, and he got a good look at her face. She was very pretty, and suddenly he felt very flustered. "Do you want to play a game?"

"Now, now, Anneliese, it's time for bed," the queen said sternly, taking her hand again. "And he's here to _teach_ you, remember?"

"Yes, I know, but I'm not in lessons all the time. We can play games too, can't we, papa?"

The king nodded and the queen led Anneliese inside.

"Well?"

"I think I like her, sir," Julian said timidly, and the king laughed.

"I was hoping you'd say that."


	6. Madness

Julian wandered in the gardens for three hours. He could name everything he saw, and it gave him an enormous sense of satisfaction. When he finally went indoors for lunch, he had begun to think about the gems again.

He was absolutely certain they were not amethysts—at least, not _normal_ amethysts. He had not ruled out the possibility of magic, although if he mentioned that to anyone, they would probably laugh at him. There was something about them... something very strange about their color and clarity that he could not put his finger on. He had told himself many times that he was probably fixating on nothing, but that hadn't done much to deter him.

He went straight to the kitchens to grab some bread before heading upstairs for the library again. On his way there, he paused at an open doorway, recognizing Dominick's back as he stared at a portrait. Julian guessed this must be the ballroom Anneliese had told him about. He cleared his throat, and Dominick started, looking around.

"Oh, hello," he said, staring at the bit of bread in Julian's hands. "Hungry?"

"Uh, yes." Julian hastily took his last bite, wiping the crumbs from his hands on his breeches. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to the portrait Dominick has been looking at.

"My grandfather."

"Ah, King Rodrigo! I've been reading about him."

"You have?" Dominick asked, surprised.

"I've been reading up on Dulcinean history, in honor of the coronation—and general fascination—all the way back to King Hroderich, but I think Rodrigo may be my favorite. Of the historical kings," he added quickly. "You're more... current events. There aren't books about you yet, I don't think."

Dominick laughed. "Not that I know of. A few scathing articles have been written lately, though."

"People upset with your marriage?" Julian guessed, although it was hardly guessing.

"Oh yes," he said cheerfully, beckoning for Julian to follow him out of the ballroom. "And I've gotten heaps of letters. Some of them from heartbroken women, or their angry mothers. But that's been the case for the past few years. No one was very interested in me when I was just a prince, but once my father died and I became king, suddenly everyone cared about who I was going to marry."

"How long did you look before Genevieve asked you to marry Anneliese?" Julian asked lightly. He was _not_ jealous of something that had never even happened. He was not.

"Six months or so." Dominick shrugged, opening the door to his study.

"Was there ever anyone you liked?"

Dominick was quiet for a moment as he sat behind his desk, which was piled with paper and parchment. "You won't tell Erika?"

"Of course not," Julian said, sinking into an armchair.

"There was one woman. She was very beautiful, but... she had a dreadful temper."

Julian frowned. "I... Not to gossip, but I had heard that Erika has been quite—"

"Not like that!" Dominick waved his hand as though he could bat the sentence out of the air. "Yes, Erika has been a bit short with me lately, but she's been under a great deal of stress lately—we both have—and she's always so quick to apologize. No, this was something else." He sighed, staring at his hands as he played with a quill. He glanced at the closed door and swallowed. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," Julian said curiously.

"This woman was... _violent_."

Julian inhaled sharply but said nothing.

"She would get very angry if everything wasn't _exactly_ perfect. God forbid the tablecloth was the wrong color—I wish that was an exaggeration." He sighed heavily. "She would hit things. The wall, the table... me." He laid down his quill and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face. "For awhile, I thought, 'If I can just keep things _perfect_, it won't happen anymore.' I did the best I could, but she would still get so angry. I had to realize that it wasn't my fault, and that I wasn't doing myself any favors keeping her in my life. I ended things." He stood up and began to pace. "It... It wasn't pleasant. In the end, I had to have her arrested."

"Where did you send her?"

"A private prison owned by some of my relatives in Spain." Dominick barely repressed a shudder. "I can't stand to think what would happen if she came back. I think she would try to kill Erika, at the very least, I really do." He sat back down. "Do you think I was too extreme? I mean"—he swallowed past a lump in his throat—"she did threaten and make an attempt on my life."

"Not at all. Honestly. You're a king, you have to do what's necessary to protect yourself and your people. She sounds like a danger to everyone, including herself."

Dominick put his head in his hands. "Please, don't say anything to Erika, or even Anneliese. Very few people know about her, and I'd like it to stay that way."

"Of course," Julian said earnestly.

For a moment there was a tense, awkward silence, as neither knew what to say. Julian had never been hit in his life, not even by his father, although he had been shouted at quite a lot. But he didn't think that Dominick needed to hear that.

"I'm sorry for sharing all that," Dominick began.

"Don't be! I'm just not sure what to say about it. I'm very sorry, you know, but I don't think that helps."

"Thank you for listening. Like I said, there are only a few people that know. I rarely have a chance to talk about it at all."

"It's no problem, really," Julian insisted.

There was another, somewhat calmer moment of silence.

"If you're not too bored of hearing me talk, I was wondering if I could get your opinion on something else?" Dominick asked, fiddling with his quill again.

"These policies? I'm the first to admit that economics is not my strong suit, but I could give them a look."

"Well, no, but if you'd like to look them over, be my guest."

"I'm sure Anneliese would be willing, too, if you'd like. She has a better technical mind."

"I'll be sure to ask her. But that's not what I wanted to ask about."

"Right, sorry."

"This is private, too, remember."

"I usually assume people tell me things in confidence."

Dominick nodded. "Well... Yesterday I caught my brother, Oliver... He was with a girl. Sara, Erika's handmaiden? And they were... kissing."

"Oh my."

"I didn't react very well."

"Where is Oliver now?"

"Confined to his room until he apologizes."

"He was... hurting her?"

"No, not exactly." Dominick sighed. "But they're both so young, and I wouldn't put it past Oliver to use his position to coerce her."

"Where is he now?"

"Confined to his room."

"For how long?"

"Until he apologizes."

"I see."

"You think I was too hard on him."

"I think you should tell Oliver what you're telling me."

"He won't understand. He's too young."

"He just proved that he isn't, didn't he?" Julian shook his head. "I was fifteen not too long ago, and I remember what it was like."

Dominick sighed again, laying his quill down. "You're right. I think I'll go and talk to him... Would you mind looking at these policies? I'll ask Anneliese later, but a fresh perspective would probably do me good." He stood up and stretched.

"Don't you have a council or something to help you?"

"I do, but as many of them are angry, I've decided to leave them out of this."

"Maybe you should travel with a guard," Julian joked, but he half wasn't joking and they both knew it.

"I have Sebastian," Dominick said, nodding to a corner, and Julian jumped upon realizing there was a man standing there.

"Has he been there the whole time?" Julian asked as his pulse ticked back to normal.

"I left him here for a moment to go to the ballroom and it looks like he stayed put."

"I haven't moved an inch," Sebastian said somberly, and Dominick laughed.

"Well, if you'll look that over, Julian? Any of the papers on my desk are relevant—mind you don't go rooting around." He winked and beckoned for Sebastian to follow him out. "I'll be back in awhile," he called over his shoulder as he entered the corridor, and he fell into a leisurely, unhurried step. "That was nice of him to offer, don't you think? I don't know why I didn't think to ask him before."

"You're very used to operating alone."

Dominick nodded absently, trailing close to the wall to drag his fingers across the cool stone. His mother had often reprimanded him for doing this.

"You haven't talked about Marisol in a long time."

"I rarely have anyone to talk with." Sebastian made a small scoffing noise. "You know what I mean. You were there, you know the whole story already."

"I think the only one to _truly_ know the whole story is you. I was a bystander."

"Be glad of that," Dominick said, shivering. He was ashamed that part of him still missed her, over two years later, after all she'd done. Who knows how many times he'd begun a letter to her, only to come to his senses and throw it in the fire.

"I'm never glad of anything."

"Were you born this humorless?" Dominick grinned.

Sebastian's expression remained impassive. "I believe so."

Dominick shook his head, still smiling. "What would I do without you, Sebastian?"

"Die, of course."

"I made it to Aurelia and back in one piece."

"I think that was because of Hans. You know there's a reason he travels without guards."

"He's certainly impressive in a fight, isn't he? Remember when we fenced?"

"You nearly died because you wouldn't yield."

"Yes, well, I didn't expect the stories about old Ambassador Bismark to be _true_."

"You're just stubborn."

"I think being king did that to me. I was such a nice child."

Sebastian's mouth twitched, which was as near as he ever got to a smile. "If you say so."

Dominick laughed, though he sobered quickly as Oliver's door came into view. Two guards he recognized as Baldo and Willihard stood sentry.

"Wish me luck," Dominick murmured to Sebastian as he opened the door. "Oliver?"

"Come to yell at me some more?" came a muffled voice from the bed; Oliver seemed to be laying with a pillow over his face.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Go ahead," Oliver sighed, sitting up and setting the pillow aside. He hugged his knees as Dominick sat down.

"First off, I wanted to apologize for... reacting so strongly yesterday."

When it became clear Dominick wanted a response, Oliver said, "Alright." He stared fixedly at the wall.

"I understand wanting to be with someone, alright? Young as you are—"

"I'm not that young!"

"Maybe not, but you're younger than I was when I first kissed a girl—"

"You don't have to take that out on me."

"I'm not _bitter_, alright? I mean, I have a wife now. I kiss her every day."

"Yeah, I've noticed." Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Well—"

"_Everyone_ has noticed. You know that, right? I hope you know you're not being subtle when you're groping her every chance you get."

"_Will you just let me talk?_ It's different! It's completely different! I'm _married_. I'm not using a servant girl for a few minutes and then sending her on her way. You understand that's wrong, don't you?"

Oliver remained resolutely silent.

"Sara is a person, Oliver. She has feelings."

"I know that," he said stiffly, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't think you do."

"She's the only girl my age here," Oliver said, like he was pleading for understanding. "And it's not like I can get to know her if she's always with Erika."

"You would have made a better use of ten minutes talking to her rather than trying to get under her skirt."

"She likes me. I know she likes me."

"You don't _know_ that. I mean, has she ever said that to you? Has she ever said the words 'I like you'?"

"No, but—"

"Then you don't _know_ anything." After a long, silent moment, Dominick stood up. "Are you ready to apologize and keep your hands to yourself?"

"Yeah," Oliver said, standing up and stretching.

As they left Oliver's room, joined by Sebastian, Dominick warned, "Erika is still upset, and I am not responsible for anything she may threaten you with, do you understand?"

"I—I guess?" Oliver said uncertainly, as though waiting for Dominick to say he was joking.

They came across Erika, Anneliese, and Sara coming out of the library; Erika stopped dead in her tracks and glared at Oliver.

"Hello, ladies," Dominick said pleasantly, kissing Erika's cheek. "I was hoping to run into you."

"Good morning, Dominick," Anneliese said politely. "And good morning, Oliver."

"I was wondering, Anneliese, if I might borrow you for a bit? Julian said you might be able to help with the policies I'm working on."

"Oh, yes, of course." She turned to Erika. "Do you mind?"

"No, no, go right ahead. I'll see you in, oh, half an hour for lunch in my tea room?"

"Perfect," Dominick said. "That should be plenty of time. Julian is looking at them right now in my study. Sebastian can show you the way—I need to speak to Erika for a moment."

Anneliese waved and left with Sebastian; as soon as she turned the corner, Erika said, "What's _he_ doing here?"

"He came to apologize." Dominick nudged his brother.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Oliver said, staring at the floor; Sara mirrored him, red in the face.

"You don't have to forgive him," Erika said quickly, still glaring.

"Thank you, milord," Sara whispered. "I accept."

"I've got a lesson," Oliver mumbled, dipping into a small bow and then hurrying off, blushing furiously.

Erika stared after him until Dominick slipped his arms around her waist. "Please, dear, forgive him. Nobody was hurt. He's just a stupid fifteen-year-old boy."

"All fifteen-year-old-boys are stupid," Erika said, sticking out her tongue.

"That is very true." Dominick sighed. "I suppose I should get back to my study."

"Do you have to?"

"The policies won't write themselves."

Erika pouted. "You're so busy."

"Yes, well, I'm doing the work twenty people usually spread between them."

"I'm sorry," Erika said immediately. She felt guilty every time she thought of all the damage she'd caused; her marriage was making _her_ happy, obviously, but only a handful of other people seemed to support it.

"No, don't you dare say that." He kissed the tip of her nose. "How about we have dinner tonight, just the two of us?"

Erika grinned. "My tea room, eight o'clock?"

"I'll be there." He smiled and brushed his lips against hers. She shivered as he let go of her waist. "I'll send Anneliese back soon, don't worry."

Erika watched him go feeling very forlorn, which Sara seemed to notice, because she said, "Shall we try to find Wolfie, milady? We've got half an hour before lunchtime."

She nodded gratefully. "Where do you think he might be?"

"We could try in the kitchens," Sara suggested. "I've seen him in there sometimes, begging for scraps."

"Oh, Wolfie," Erika laughed. "I could never break him of the habit."

"He's always given something. He's very persistent."

"That's my boy."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Erika said, "I didn't really get a chance to talk to you this morning—I mean, Dominick told me what had happened and then I got... distracted, and then breakfast—"

"If I may, milady," Sara said quietly, "I would rather not talk about it."

"Oh, of course. I just meant that I'm here for you, you know? Technically _you_ are _my_ confidante, but that doesn't mean it can't go the other way, too. I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me."

"I still am, a little," Sara admitted. "But I feel braver and more comfortable all the time. I would just... rather not talk about it."

"That's good." Erika smiled. "I won't press it, I promise. I just wanted to tell you."

"Thank you, milady. And if... If I may ask a f-favor?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't hold a grudge against Oliver."

"I'll try." Erika sighed as they entered the last corridor to the kitchens, and found someone standing there.

"What are you doing down here?" Bertram asked as they came upon him.

"This is my palace and I may go where I please," Erika said coolly. "What are _you_ doing down here?"

"I was getting a bit of lunch before teaching Oliver today's lesson," he said, as though it was perfectly obvious. He stared at them, his head tilted to one side. He seemed to be in the very middle of the corridor, so that they could not comfortably go around him on either side.

"Mind you tell him not to grope any lady he comes across alone. That lesson does not seem to have stuck."

Bertram raised an eyebrow. "Surely I will. Good day." He stepped to the side and continued on his way.

They entered the kitchens, which were filled with people moving, delectable smells, and the odd noise of metal on wood or stone. Sara cleared her throat with a quiet "_hem_, _hem_" and all activity ceased as the staff dropped into bows and curtsies.

"Oh, please don't do that," Erika said, and everyone straightened up murmuring "sorry." "No, don't apologize—oh, for heaven's sake." Erika took a deep breath, fighting her rising panic. "What's your name?" she said to a squat, middle-aged man. He didn't seem particularly nervous.

"I'm Rudolf, milady."

"Rudolf is our head chef," Sara supplied.

"Oh, how wonderful!" _Of course, out of all the people in here, I had to interrupt the busiest._ "I'm sorry to interrupt you all, I was only wondering if you'd seen Wolfie? My cat?"

"Not since this morning, milady."

"Thank you anyway," Erika said. "Come on, Sara."

They exited the kitchen quickly.

"Oh, that was a horrible idea. Don't let me talk to people again."

"Milady?"

"People bowing to me—it's madness!" Erika shook her head. "Let's look in the garden. Wolfie likes to chase the butterflies."

* * *

_1 Month Ago_

Dominick paced his study; Bertram sat in a chair, watching him pace; and Sebastian stood in a shadowed corner, looking at nothing and listening for everything.

"I have to ask you to stop being so hard on Erika, even though I know you won't. I have to tell her that I talked to you."

"Yes," Bertram said.

"You're awful, you know that? I don't know how you do it, but whenever I ask you anything, the answer you give makes me feel like I'm the one being questioned."

"Is that so?"

"There! You just did it!"

"Did I?" Bertram said idly, picking at a thread on his cuff.

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you suffer me. Why is that?"

"Because you knew my father." Dominick pinched the bridge of his nose. "You really should be easier on her. She's so frustrated with everything that's going on already."

"I cannot alter my methods, as you well know."

"You're mad. I don't know how you ever get a straight point across."

"Perhaps the way isn't straight after all."

"I hate you," Dominick said, resigned, as he stopped his pacing and sat behind his desk.

"You were never one for rhetoric," said Bertram, standing.

"Do you think she can do it?" Dominick asked as he reached the door. "Do you think Erika can be a good queen?"

Bertram turned and locked eyes with Dominick. "Erika may be the greatest queen this country will ever see."

Dominick was quite sure that was the only straight answer he had ever given


	7. Promises

_10 Years Ago_

"Anneliese, please pay attention," Julian said tiredly as he caught her staring out the window yet again.

"Sorry," she said quickly, turning to face him. "But it's such a nice day! We ought to be out in the gardens."

"If we have our lesson outside, you _definitely_ won't pay attention."

"I don't _want_ to have my lesson outside. I want to pick flowers and chase you around the grounds."

Julian blushed. "After our lesson."

"You promise? You'll come play with me in the gardens?"

"I—I didn't say that."

"Why won't you play with me anymore?" Anneliese pouted, crossing her arms.

Julian shifted uncomfortably and closed _The Princess' Book of Etiquette_. "It's not really proper."

"I'm not a lady yet!"

"I didn't mean that. I meant... For me to play with you is... against decorum."

"Papa said you were going to be my friend," Anneliese reminded him. As if he needed reminding. "I'll... I'll tell on you!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Tell on me? For not playing?"

"I will, I'll tell my papa, and he'll _make_ you play with me."

She stood up and he panicked, grabbing her hand. "Don't!" She paused and looked down at his hand on hers; he blushed and let go, staring at the floor. "Sorry."

"I like it when you hold my hand, Julian," she said quietly, blushing to the roots of her long blond hair.

"I'm not allowed," Julian said faintly.

"Why not?"

"It's not proper."

"Don't you like me?"

"Of course I like you," he said, almost angrily. He was here, wasn't he? "But there are rules about this sort of thing. You don't want them to send me away, do you?"

"Who would send you away? Papa wouldn't let them. I know he wouldn't. He wants me to be happy." She crossed her arms, defiant.

"Don't ever stray from protocol," Julian said, tapping the cover of the book. "There's a certain way things are done, and it's all for a reason."

"A stupid reason," Anneliese muttered, and his mouth twitched.

"Come on, let's finish this lesson, and then... And then we can go into the gardens and pick flowers. I promise."

She looked to his eyes for a long minute, as though trying to detect a lie, then sighed and sat down. "Alright. If you promise."

* * *

_3 Months Ago_

Anneliese waited anxiously in her chambers for Julian to arrive. She was wearing a dress she'd commissioned specially from Erika after their conversation about affection; Erika had been surprised, but quite happy with the design she'd requested.

Julian entered the room after knocking three times, as had been his habit for several years. He stopped short when he saw Anneliese, inhaling sharply and then averting his eyes.

Her face fell. "You don't like it?"

"Your dress? It's very... Pretty."

"Of course it's pretty," Anneliese said impatiently. "Erika made it."

"She did?" Julian looked at her, surprised, then saw her dress and turned away again.

"Yes, I asked her to."

"Why?"

Anneliese looked down at the dress. It had a low, tight bodice, and the skirt hugged her hips. It was actually very comfortable, but she had only requested that it be revealing—scandalous, even. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I think I need to go."

"Julian, wait!" She walked to him and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head to look at her, but he kept his eyes closed. "Please. We're going to be married in a few weeks, and... You'll barely touch me. I... I almost wonder if you even love me anymore."

"Of course I love you," he said, opening his eyes and taking her hand from his cheek. He stepped back, looking carefully at her face. "I... I don't trust myself to be alone with you."

"Why not?"

He took a deep breath. "You'll see after the wedding." He blushed as though embarrassed, or perhaps excited.

Her heart fluttered. "Do you promise?" she whispered, stepping closer.

"Yes."

Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second and then kissed her. He pulled away far sooner than he would have liked; Anneliese, for her part, seemed lost in a giddy daze.

"Now... I've got to go." He kissed her hand, and then walked to the door. "But if you'd like, please save that dress."

He left before she could respond, which was good because she could only giggle.

She had never been so happy.

* * *

_2 Months Ago_

After their wedding and a short parade through Astraea, the Beaumonts and the Von Brandts said their goodbyes. Dominick and Erika left the palace, so they could get a good head start on their journey to Martha, the capital of Dulcinea; Anneliese and Julian went straight to her room, which they would now be sharing.

As the door swung shut, Anneliese began to feel very nervous. She had, admittedly, seen Serafina and Wolfie doing this, but she very much doubted that Julian was going to bite the back of her neck, although it may not be so bad if he did. She very much doubted he would do anything that would hurt her.

He had held her hand as they went upstairs, but now he stood several feet away, looking unsure.

"Well... We're married now."

"Yes." He looked happier and more excited than she had ever seen him.

"You did promise..."

"Yes, I know. I'm just... not sure what to do."

"What would you like to do?" She didn't know what they were supposed to do, exactly, but she trusted that Julian did. He knew so many things.

"I'd like to get you out of that dress," he said, staring with unfocused eyes at her shoulder. Her cheeks felt very hot.

"Then come here," she said, her voice quavering. "You can't do anything from over there."

Julian stepped closer, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her. This was a very different kiss from the chaste peck he'd given her downstairs to seal their marriage. Anneliese felt like she was melting, and her legs nearly gave way; she pulled away, breathing heavily, and tried to steady herself. She found the ribbon that had held Julian's hair back in her hand. She'd never seen his hair down before, but she found that she liked it.

"Are you alright?" he asked, catching her before she could fall.

"Yes, I just need... a moment..."

His hands found the buttons on the back of her dress, and spun her gently around so that he could properly undo it. Her heart was beating very fast as she stepped out of her dress, leaving her in her shift and corset, which he began to unlace, kissing the back of her neck. She shivered.

"Are you alright?" he asked again. Perhaps he was doing something wrong.

"I feel so naked," she said breathlessly as he pulled her corset off. Her shift felt very thin all of the sudden. "It's not fair, let's get you naked, too." She unbuttoned his jacket, and Julian pulled it off, along with his shirt, and kissed her again.

His lips moved to her neck, and then her collarbone, and his hand was on her rear! No one had touched her there before. It was almost ticklish, and she giggled. He paused a moment, looking at her curiously, but she pulled him into yet another kiss, throwing her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up, carrying her to the bed.

They broke the kiss and she sat on the edge of the mattress, breathing heavily, while Julian kicked off his shoes and took off his breeches and stockings.

Anneliese's eyes were wide with surprise as she looked at him, and Julian began to feel self-conscious. She tipped her head to one side, still staring between his legs, and asked, "Does it always do that?"

He laughed softly. "Well, no—"

"Will it hurt?" She shrank back, bringing her knees tightly together.

"I don't think so," he said.

"You don't _think_ so?"

"I've never done this before!" He took a deep breath, trying to be serious for a moment, which was difficult with an erection. "But you know that I would never intentionally hurt you."

She knew the answer, but she had to ask: "You promise?"

"I promise," he said solemnly, and he kissed her.

With that kiss, she forgot that she was nervous, forgot that she was afraid, and relaxed.

Julian kept his promises that night.

* * *

Dominick and Erika stopped at an inn in Slade, several miles from Astraea.

They were supposed to be sleeping, but no one in their party thought they were going to sleep much that night. It was their wedding night, after all.

As soon as they were alone together in their room, Dominick and Erika were nearly sealed at the lips, each trying to get the other's clothes off while kissing every inch of skin they could reach. It was messy, but neither cared; no one was watching, so it hardly mattered how it looked.

Erika had gotten Dominick's jacket and shirt off before he'd made any headway on her dress, and in his excited scrabbling at the buttons, he pulled too hard on the fabric and it tore all along the seam on her bodice.

They both paused in surprise, until Erika shrugged and said, "I was only going to wear it once, anyway," and pulled him even more fervently into a kiss.

No longer caring, he tore at the rest of the seams, until the dress was only scraps of fabric on the floor, which they both kicked aside on their way to the bed.

Erika lay on her stomach as Dominick unlaced her corset with fumbling fingers. "Promise me we'll sleep tonight," she giggled. "We're going to be so tired tomorrow."

"No promises," he said, turning her over and tossing her corset aside as he kissed along her jaw.

"I guess I'll take my chances," she laughed, pulling him into another kiss.

* * *

_Now_

It was the last night of the Beaumonts' stay in Dulcinea. Erika and Julian waited in the foyer for Dominick and Anneliese; Anneliese had ripped her favorite dress and was having it quickly sewn, and Dominick's afternoon meeting had run late. They were going to have dinner in the gardens to celebrate the departure.

Erika shifted her weight from foot to foot awkwardly while Julian picked aimlessly at his cuffs. They hadn't actually said much to each other since he had asked her to masquerade as Anneliese.

"So... How do you like our library?" Erika asked finally.

"It's extraordinary, really. I've been meaning to ask if I could borrow some of the books—I've been taking as many notes as possible, but I can only read so fast."

"You'll have to ask Dominick. Most of them were his father's or grandfather's, you know. They might be sentimental or something."

"Of course."

Erika rocked back on her heels. "I never did say thank you."

"For what?"

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here." She gestured vaguely at the walls.

"If it wasn't for your cat, neither would I."

They laughed, each pretending that the absurdity of the statement wasn't terrifying.

"I mean it, though," Erika said earnestly. "If there's anything I can do—I mean, we're basically the same rank and everything, but if there's anything I could do for you, please, don't hesitate to ask."

"I owe you just as much. If it weren't for you, Anneliese would have married Preminger." He shuddered at the thought, and after a moment's silence, he said, "Sometimes... Sometimes I think King Alphonse meant for me to marry Anneliese." He had never told anyone this before, because it was such a silly thing. But he trusted that Erika wouldn't laugh.

She didn't laugh. Instead, she looked thoughtful. "Why do you say that?"

"He picked me to tutor her, did you know that? He was worried that she didn't have any friends her age, and obviously she didn't have any siblings. He could have picked any little girl from the village to be her playmate, but he chose me, and he wanted me to teach her. It's almost... almost like he knew that she would fall in love with me. I know it sounds strange."

Erika shrugged. "I didn't know the king, obviously. Maybe he did plan it. I mean, he never tried to have her betrothed to Dominick or anyone else. Maybe he wanted her to fall in love."

"I like to think so," Julian said quietly. "May he rest in peace."

Erika nodded fervently.

"So sorry I'm late!" Anneliese said breathlessly, rushing down the stairs and kissing Julian on the cheek. "But I'm all stitched up now."

"Don't worry, Dominick isn't even here yet."

"Oh, good." She took a moment to catch her breath. "What were you two talking about?"

Julian slipped his arm around her waist. "How I fell in love with you."

"Really?" Anneliese giggled.

"I may have fallen in love the moment I saw you. It's very difficult to be an eight-year-old in love, did you know?"

She raised her eyebrows, the smile sliding from her face. "What do you mean, eight years old? I thought you were ten, like me!"

Julian reddened. "I was tall for my age, and obviously very smart—"

"All this time, I can't believe I never thought to ask how old you are. Not even on your birthday!" Anneliese said in amazement.

"Well... It never really came up. When we were younger, I didn't want you to think I was a baby, and then... It wasn't important. I'm sorry," he added, alarmed by the strange smirk quirking her lips.

"Don't be. That's just... very interesting." Anneliese shook her head. "I know you won't surprise me, Erika. You're exactly my age. Or am I your age?"

"I don't think it matters," Erika laughed. "It's all the same to me."

Anneliese looked at her thoughtfully. "Dominick is older, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's twenty-six."

"There's quite a gap between him and Oliver, then."

"I suppose." Erika shrugged, and then her face lit up as Dominick appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Just got out of the meeting, so sorry. Well... Shall we go out, then?"

"Let's," said Erika, and all four went out into the evening.

* * *

Wolfie and Serafina lay on a second-floor balcony that overlooked the gardens, and saw their humans gathering at a table to eat. They heard voices, but didn't understand what they were saying, apart from the occasional random word. They heard their own names once or twice, and wondered what they were discussing, and if they should be worried.

Serafina stood and stretched, licking a paw daintily, then pointedly turned away from the humans and went back into the palace; Wolfie followed, deciding that curiosity would not kill this cat. They leapt lightly onto Genevieve's bed and curled up to sleep.

Genevieve didn't notice. She was sitting at her desk, writing her twelfth page of notes on the many things to do when they got back to Aurelia, provided Mathieu Dubois hadn't left the country in shambles. This trip could hardly have come at a more inconvenient time, but she certainly owed the Von Brandts a great deal. In any case, they were going home tomorrow, and that was something.

From the garden, she heard the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses, and almost wished she was with them, but she had shouldered a lot of Anneliese's duties—more than usual—so that she could have a relaxing visit with her friend.

After the incidents two years ago, Genevieve had tried to make Anneliese's life as stress-free as possible. She felt very responsible for everything Anneliese had been through, and she tried to ease her guilt by assuming many of Anneliese's duties, in addition to her own. The stress of it all was getting to her, but her guilt was worse; she kept to herself as much as possible so that she would not have to put up an unfazed facade.

She came to the end of this page, and decided that everything else could be done in the carriages on the way home. She stood up and went onto the balcony, smiling and waving at the two couples in the gardens before shutting the doors and drawing the curtains over them. The smile slid quickly from her face as she dressed herself for bed. Dominick has offered her a chambermaid, or several, but she had graciously declined. She had had trouble trusting anyone since Preminger.

Genevieve shivered as she remembered the fortune they had seized from him after his arrest. He had been stealing from them for so many years... She shook her head. It didn't matter now. He was penniless and sat in a dungeon cell. There was nothing he could do to hurt her, or anyone else.

She hoped.


	8. Quean

**_Please note that this fic is now rated M._**

* * *

After a lengthy meal in the gardens, the Beaumonts and the Von Brandts bid each other goodnight and departed for their respective rooms. Julian was exhausted and thought he would fall asleep as soon as he lay down, but it seemed Anneliese had other plans.

As soon as the door shut, Anneliese had her arms around his neck, staring up at him with the same smirk he had noticed earlier.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked tiredly as she untied the ribbon in his hair. She tossed it away and leaned up to kiss him. He leaned away. "It's very late."

"I don't care."

"You'll be tired in the morning."

"I can sleep in the carriage."

"You don't sleep well in the carriage."

"I don't care," she said again.

"We're leaving at sunrise—"

"I know."

Julian raised an eyebrow, then pried her arms from around his neck and turned her around, so that he could get at the buttons down her back.

"Are you really younger than me?" Anneliese asked, playing with a lock of her hair. "Twenty, not twenty-two?"

"Yes, really. What would I have to gain by lying?"

"Well..."

"I know I lied before, but... Like I said, when we were younger, I was terrified that you would think I was too young to teach you anything and send me back to the village. Then we grew up, and it didn't seem to matter. I like to think we've always been very evenly matched."

"Yes," she said absently, stepping out of her dress. Julian laid it over the top of the room divider, then began unlacing her corset, kissing the back of her neck. "But you know what this means, don't you?"

"What does it mean?"

"This means... I was walking before you were born. I was talking before you could ever walk. I did all that _first_."

"Yes, you did."

"I _do_ appreciate everything you've taught me, God knows where I would be if not for you. But to think that, for a time, there were things that I could do that you could not... It's thrilling."

"I understand." He hung the corset beside her gown, then took off his own shirt and vest and laid them likewise.

Before he could reach for his breeches, Anneliese had kissed him, and he hoisted her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked to the bed and laid her down, kissing her neck and collarbones. Suddenly she rolled over and he lay underneath her as she straddled his waist. She hadn't taken this position before, but he found the weight of her body intoxicating. He leaned up to kiss her but she pressed his shoulders to the mattress, cheeks flushed.

"I thought you knew everything. But once... Once I knew much more."

Her shift was sheer, and even by the dim light he could see the outline of her breasts. She shifted her weight a bit, getting comfortable, and he nearly passed out. He took an unsteady breath. "I'm sure you still know things to teach me."

"What do I have to teach you?"

"Just how little it takes to reach desperation."

Anneliese grinned, eyes glinting, and wiggled a bit more.

"S-Stop," Julian gasped.

She smirked at him, then gave a huge yawn, stretching in a way that forced a moan from his mouth. "You're right, it is very late," she said, and began to roll off, but he caught her and held her firm on top of him. "Didn't you want to go to bed?"

"Not yet," he said faintly. "Y-You've still got something to teach me."

"Oh?" She settled her weight more firmly and he let out a low groan. "I've already proven that I don't need to get your breeches off to get a rise out of you."

"No," he admitted, and his face flooded with heat.

"And we've already done the rest, so—"

"Not like this." His hands rested on the swell of her hips, and he looked up at her, pleading.

"I don't even need to take your breeches off, do I?" She rocked her hips, and his fingertips dug into her skin.

"Don't," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "It's not fair, you're not having any fun—"

"Who said that? I'm having plenty of fun." Anneliese rocked her hips again and he whimpered. "You can make it up to me later." Her hands left his shoulders. "Look at me."

When he opened his eyes, he saw her with her hands on her own breasts, biting her lip as she moved on top of him. She began slowly, her head tipped back, playing with her nipples through her shift. He reached up to help, but she slapped his hand away as she began moving faster, and so he gripped the blankets instead. She peeked at him and saw his eyes tight shut, biting his own lip, and she let out a small moan. That was enough to tip him over the edge; his orgasm left him gasping, and she grew still.

He sat up quickly and fastened his mouth on hers, his hand tangling in her carefully curled hair. He rolled over on top of her, his hand slipping between her legs as he kissed her, and soon she was writhing in absolute pleasure.

She wilted into the mattress, spent, and he lay beside her, kissing the birthmark on her shoulder. Her mouth was curved into a delicious smile, but he was too tired to taste it.

"I love you," she sighed, half asleep already. She waited for him to respond, but when she rolled over to look at him, he'd already drifted off. She grinned and settled into the crook of his arm, her head on his chest.

Neither had ever slept so soundly.

* * *

"It seems lonelier without them."

"You'll see them again, milady."

"Yes, I know," Erika sighed. "But _when_?"

"I... I daresay once one of you has a child, the other will go for the christening."

"Well, yes, but that's so far away. They've only been gone a few hours, and it feels like _forever_. It didn't feel like this when I was away on my tour."

Sara wrung her hands. "Yes, milady, I've been meaning to ask—"

Erika hadn't heard her. "Come on, let's go see the seamstresses. It doesn't do for a queen to be late, after all."

"Yes, milady." Sara stood up, ringing the small bell on the table; several servants appeared. "We're all done."

"Yes, we are, thank you." Erika smiled at them, but they were all pointedly averting her eye. She sighed as Sara led her out of the dining hall. "Will it always be like that?"

"They're intimidated, milady."

Erika shook her head. "I'll convince them, somehow. I mean, I don't really have time to be _friends_ with everyone, but that doesn't mean they should be afraid. I'm nice, right?"

"Very nice, milady."

"That might be going a bit far," Erika laughed. "Anyway, these seamstresses, have you met them?"

"Only when you sent me to see them."

"Did they seem nice?"

"Nice enough, I suppose. I was only there for a moment. Well... Here we are," Sara said, stopping at a door. They could hear a bit of chatter and laughter, too indistinct to make out. "Are you ready?"

Erika took a deep breath, and then assumed a neutral expression. "Yes."

Sara pushed the door open, and the room fell silent.

"Hello," Erika said, ignoring the lump rising in her throat. "And what are your names?"

"Indigo," said one woman with dark skin, who looked exceptionally tall even sitting down.

"Scarlet," said another, a blonde who looked conversely short.

"Paisley," mumbled the third, a redhead with seemingly endless freckles.

"Hello," Erika said again. "How... How are you?"

"Fine," Scarlet said stiffly.

"Why do you interrupt us?" Indigo asked, almost angrily.

"I... I w-wanted to give you some notes." Erika swallowed. "On my coronation dress?"

"Notes?" Paisley raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about the stitching—"

"And what do _you_ know about stitching?" They smirked among themselves as though dealing with a small, ambitious child.

"_Excuse me_?" Erika stared between the three women, outraged. She felt Bertram's lessons kicking in, and found herself saying, in a deadly calm voice, "First of all, _ladies_, It is not your place to question your queen. If I tell you to make my dresses out of clouds, you will make it so, or you will be out of a job. Do you understand me?"

No one in the room was smiling anymore; the seamstresses nodded, eyes wide.

"You work _for me_. I can and will replace you at any time if your work is not to my satisfaction. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded again, looking frightened.

"As for what I know about stitching, I sewed my first dress when I was five years old. Don't be an idiot." She saw tears welling in Paisley's eyes and felt her anger drain away, replaced with guilt. But she would not show weakness to these women, who hadn't even shown her basic respect. "Now hand me a needle and thread, and a bit of fabric. I'll show you how I want it."

Indigo handed them to her, and Erika sat on a free stool. The seamstresses looked very confused, but Erika ignored that, deciding to talk to Sara about it later.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked as she threaded her needle.

"A few months," Scarlet answered, sounding scared. "Altogether, we have maybe three years' experience."

"Well, there's your problem right there. And I'm guessing you're all self-taught?"

"Yes, milady," Indigo said lowly.

"You'll get better. I may have first sewn when I was five, but I didn't make anything worthwhile until I was twelve. And in a bit, we'll talk about patterns, do remind me. Sara, sit down, this will take awhile."

* * *

Anneliese had woken up feeling oddly aroused this morning, and now the bumpy carriage ride was doing strange things to her indeed.

"Are you alright?" Julian asked, leaning forward. He sat across from her in their carriage; Queen Genevieve was in the one ahead, reading and then making more lists of things to do when they got back.

"Yes." She shifted in her seat. She was rapidly discovering there was a fine line between pleasure and annoyance.

"Are you sure?"

"I wish we'd gotten up earlier this morning." She tried crossing her legs to see if that would help. "We would have had time."

"Time for—? _Oh_." He blushed. "We shouldn't do anything here."

"I know," Anneliese said curtly, chewing on a fingernail. They weren't supposed to leave the festival, either, but they'd done that.

"Oh, don't do that, it took you years to break the habit." He tugged her hand from her mouth and held it in both of his. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"You're angry with me."

"No, I'm just... _frustrated_. Why is this happening?" She pulled her hand away.

"It happens sometimes."

"To you?"

He blushed even harder. "Sometimes."

That made her feel a bit better, but did nothing to ease her situation.

Suddenly Julian leaned over and drew the shades on all the windows. It grew considerably darker inside the carriage.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he slid to his knees in front of her.

"I don't like seeing you like this," he said, and he kissed her.

As they broke apart, Anneliese said, "You just said we shouldn't, and there's not really room to lie down—"

"Who said anything about lying down?"

"You have lovely hands, but this time I don't think—"

"I wasn't talking about my hands, either." In the darkness, she could just make out the heavy blush in his cheeks.

Anneliese raised her eyebrows. "But what else is there?"

Julian seemed to be shaking slightly. "There's always my mouth."

Her heart seemed to stop. Kissing him was one of her favorite things, and this idea of his sounded beautiful and wonderful. "Like... Like kissing?"

"Yes, like that."

She was quiet for a moment, and his hands on her thighs seemed to burn holes in her dress. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Long enough." He kissed her softly. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes, please," she breathed.

His hands were steady as he pushed up her skirt, and she leaned back, closing her eyes.

In the carriage ahead, Genevieve sat muttering to herself. "Expand the industries... Timber, granite... Flowers? Yes, I've got flowers. Fishing, maybe. Yes, let's write that down," she said, scribbling on the short list of existing Aurelian exports. "Perhaps add three more guards to Preminger's cell... Yes, that ought to do." She paused a moment as she heard a muffled scream. The guards riding beside her carriage faltered, but she stuck her head out the window. "It's just the sound of young love, carry on." A few of them chuckled, and she pulled her head back inside, reading the notes in front of her for the fifteenth time this morning. "Yes, that will have to do," she said, laying them aside. She picked up another set, sighing. "Let's just hope Mathieu Dubois is more competent than he seems, it would be so disappointing to do all this work for nothing," she said to empty air. "And for God's sake, I hope no one learns that I'm talking to myself."

* * *

"What was their _problem_?" Erika said angrily, pacing in her bedroom. "What do I know about stitching? I taught them more in that hour than they'd learned their whole 'careers'! I knew more than they did when I was _eight_."

"Milady—"

"How dare they! I am not only their queen, but a human! Why would you be so rude to someone you just met? _Why?_ And, taking into account that I _am_ their queen, someone who could ruin or even _end_ their lives?" Erika stopped in mid-step. "I wouldn't do that, you know I wouldn't," she said quickly. "I—I'm just saying, you know?"

"I know, milady. But—"

"I mean, who do they think they are? And who do they think _I_ am?"

"That's what I've been trying to say, milady!" Sara burst out. "They don't know who you are, they've only heard rumors! I've been here two months and_ I_ don't even know you."

"Of course you know me," Erika began, but Sara cut her off again.

"I don't know who you were _before_ you were queen."

"Well—what? What do you mean you don't know?"

"Nobody knows, milady, excepting you and the king. Perhaps Ambassador Bismark, too."

Erika frowned, sitting down and gesturing for Sara to sit, too. "What do the rumors say?"

"Oh, milady, I couldn't."

Erika began to feel numb. "What do they say, Sara?"

"You—you must understand, I never believed any of it, not for a second!"

"Just tell me what you've heard."

"And I never spread any of this, I just heard it. I didn't make it up, either, I promise. I wouldn't do something so awful."

"Sara. Please, just tell me."

Sara bit her lip, looking like she might cry, and then said very fast, "It was all very confusing, because King Dominick went to Aurelia to marry Anneliese but he came back without her and so people said she must have been very ugly and that's why he'd refused to marry her. And then—and then people said that he'd met someone else and fell in love with her instead, but we went a year without hearing anything, and then you came, and people said—people said that he'd met you in an Aurelian brothel and he must have married you because you had his baby, or that you bullied or manipulated him into it."

Erika sat frozen.

"Milady? Milady, I warned you it was awful! But I never believed—"

"Are you telling me... that everyone in the country thinks that I was a prostitute?" Erika whispered, barely moving her lips. She felt lightheaded, like she might fall out of her chair.

"Not everyone! But... most."

"I don't have a baby."

"Some people think you're keeping it hidden."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"The people aren't smart, milady."

"So these people... these people don't know anything about what happened in Aurelia? With Preminger?"

"I—I don't know who that is, milady."

A lump swelled in Erika's throat. "Thank you for telling me. You're dismissed."

"Dismissed?" Sara began to panic. She couldn't go back to the orphanage, she wouldn't—!

"Yes. Go to your room. Or to the library, or the garden. I don't care where you go. I don't need you anymore today."

"Oh. Yes, milady." Sara stood up and dipped into a curtsy. "I'll see you in the morning, milady."

Erika stared blankly straight ahead. After a moment, Sara realized that she wasn't going to respond, and she quietly left the room. Her panic continued to mount with every step away. She couldn't leave her lady alone! But she wouldn't disobey her, no, that would not do. Perhaps she should get the king? He'd been able to snap her out of this last time... But he might be very busy. She supposed she could fetch Oliver, then. But only as a last resort, she told herself, directing herself toward Dominick's study. The queen wasn't on good terms with Oliver, it wouldn't do to upset her further.

Sara listened at Dominick's door for some sign of activity, but it was silent. She knocked, wondering if he was there, and heard a tired, "Come in."

She opened the door slowly and stepped inside. She'd never been inside before, but found it dark and cozy. It was a handsome room, lined with bookcases, with a fireplace in one wall. The king sat slumped in an armchair beside the empty grate, a glass of brandy in one hand.

"Sara?" He set his glass aside, sitting up. "What's wrong? Where's Erika? Is she hurt?"

"She's... She's gone all stiff again, like she did after the coronation?"

Dominick stood up. "Where is she?"

"In your chambers, milord. She... She's dismissed me for the day."

Dominick's eyes widened and he left the room almost at a run. Sebastian seemed to melt out of the shadows to follow.

"I'm sorry, milord!" Sara called after him, but he was already too far to hear.

Dominick waved Sebastian off as they came to his chambers, and entered alone. He found Erika laying on the floor, sobbing.

"Erika!" He knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms, so that she cried into his shoulder, but after a moment, she shoved him away and struggled to her feet.

"I wish I'd never come back! I hate this country!"

"What are you talking about?" Dominick stood, stepping toward her, but she knocked over a chair between them and he leapt back.

"Your citizens think I'm a whore!"

"_What?_"

"They think that's how we met! No!" she shouted as he stepped closer. "You stay away from me! This is your fault!"

"How is this _my_ fault?"

"You never told anyone why you didn't marry Anneliese!"

"It's my personal life, I don't see how it's relevant—"

"It's not! They expected you to come back with a queen! And you never said why you hadn't so they made up stories!"

"How was I supposed to know—?"

"You royals never listen to _anything_ your people say!"

"I hardly think listening to rumors is constructive!" Dominick shouted, starting to panic. Had he chosen the wrong wife? Had he walked into the same trap he'd fallen into with Marisol?

"How am I supposed to be in charge of the palace if no one in it takes me seriously?" She began to cry again, anger fading away when she saw the look on her husband's face.

"I'm sorry," Dominick said mechanically, sliding to the floor. He drew his arms around his knees. "I'm sorry. I'll make it right."

"What are you doing?" She wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it right."

"Dominick, I—" She walked closer and he flinched, hunching smaller. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll make it right," Dominick repeated, eyes glazed. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I've shouted at you so many times these past few days." She crouched beside him, but he drew tighter in on himself. "Dominick?"

She hesitantly reached for his shoulder, but he buried his face in his hands and whispered, "Please don't hit me."

She drew her hand back. "What do you mean? I've never hit you."

"Please don't hit me. I'll make it right. I promise. I'll make it perfect. I'm sorry."

Through her thorough confusion, Erika felt her heart break. "It's not really your fault, Dominick. You know that. You're right, it is your personal life, you don't owe the public anything." He didn't move, and she began to back away. "Dominick? I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I—I'll get Sebastian."

She stumbled to the door and nearly fell into Sebastian as she opened it. He looked down at her, impassive.

"I—I was angry, and I was shouting at Dominick, and now he's afraid I'll hit him. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I ruined everything." Her breathing hitched, but she didn't think she could cry anymore if she wanted to.

Sebastian's jaw twitched. "Did you touch him?"

"No! I just... I stood next to him, and he's sitting on the floor. Sebastian, please, you're his oldest friend—"

"Stay here."

Erika nodded helplessly, and Sebastian slipped inside their chambers.

Dominick sat at the foot of the bed, curled into a ball. Sebastian swallowed and quickly crossed the room to sit beside him.

"Dominick? Dominick, it's me, it's Sebastian."

He didn't move.

"Erika has never hit you. She never will hit you. Do you understand me? I will not let that happen. Not again. Marisol—" Dominick flinched, whimpering. "Marisol," Sebastian said firmly, "is in Spain. She is in prison, very far away. She has been there for nearly three years. You sent her there, to protect yourself."

Dominick finally moved, to touch his neck, remembering the feeling of her hands around it, so delicate, so deadly. His lip trembled as he stared at nothing.

"Erika has never hit you," Sebastian repeated. "She has shouted at you, over the past week, because of stress, as you told Julian. Erika does not know about Marisol. She does not know what shouting does to you. I told you—" Sebastian's voice shook, and he took a steadying breath. "I told you that you should have explained it to her."

"I remember," Dominick whispered, raising his head. "I... I didn't want her to think that I—that I'm weak."

"She would never think that. She loves you. If I did not believe that she loved you, I would have her removed from the palace, queen or not."

"Is she here?"

"She's waiting outside. She is very concerned." He heaved himself to his feet.

"Will you... Will you bring her in? But stay here, please. I... It's not that I don't want to be alone with her." Sebastian helped him stand. "I just need... I feel braver when... Please, stay here."

Sebastian's mouth twitched. "I will."

Dominick picked up the chair that had been overturned and then sat in it, burying his face in his hands.

"My queen, the king would like a word," Sebastian said, opening the door. She was shaking as she crossed the threshold.

Erika sat in a chair across from Dominick, while Sebastian stood in front of the door, on guard. She was terrified and so ridden with guilt it was physical pain in her chest.

He looked into her eyes, lush blue instead of rich brown, and he felt better. She was not Marisol. They were not the same.

"Please, don't speak until I'm done. This... This is easier said all at once."

Erika nodded, chin trembling.

"It's time I told you about Marisol."


End file.
